


Feels Like Home

by thegrayness



Category: Actor RPF, Schitt's Creek (TV) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baked Goods, Fluff, Harvest Festival, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, M/M, Meet-Cute, S'mores, There was only one cabin, Unsafe Sex, Writer!Dan Levy, fall movies actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26443327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrayness/pseuds/thegrayness
Summary: Dan Levy heads to a small town to research his next novel, and finds a whole lot more.
Relationships: Dan Levy/Noah Reid
Comments: 227
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I first got this idea last year, I'm pretty sure, but other fics called to me, you know how it goes, and then the whole _*waves hands at the world*_ zapped my focus and working on something with a real plot like this was difficult. I opened this doc in March and here we are six months later 😂.
> 
> ANYWAY, I love (most) Hallmark movies and this is inspired by a bunch of my faves, which I'll list in the end notes of the last chapter to avoid ~spoilers. I'm sooooooooo grateful to everyone who played cheerleader as I whined _incessantly_ about this fic, especially Liz and TINN. 
> 
> This was beta'd beautiful by TINN who is a fic genius and I am not exaggerating just bc I love her. It's true. The fic is all done, I plan to post a chapter every day.

Dan has a morning routine. He’s cultivated it over the years since he moved to LA, and it’s much improved since he was a struggling writer forcing his manuscript into the hands of reluctant publishing reps, repeating his elevator pitch in varying tones of voice to convince someone, anyone, to just _read his story_. 

It starts with an early alarm so he can loiter in bed for ten minutes scrolling social media, and then he throws himself out of bed and into the shower, dropping a quick head scratch to Redmond, who never leaves his own bed until Dan is fully dressed and ready to let him out back for his own little morning routine. 

This morning, Dan is in a particularly good mood, somewhat removed from the days where he was in danger of having to make a phone call to his parents to pathetically ask for rent money. 

Today he’s meeting with his editor to get feedback on his third manuscript. After the above-average success of his first book, a coming of age story about a boy that’s only half-biographical, he swears, his publishers extended his contract for three more books. 

The second book was one of those _strong female character_ books that got a spot on every “Books for the Beach” list the year it came out. He’d based his main character on Anna Wintour, which he told no one, so he was both pleased and unsurprised that it received the accolades it did.

Stacey had taken a huge chance on him when he reached out to her to be his editor. He’d known Stacey socially from when he was a teen, they’d had overlapping friend circles in Toronto. He knew, vaguely, that she was working in the publishing industry, but he’d had it in his head that he was going to do this alone with no help from anyone. 

After six months of shopping his manuscript around with no success, he was at dinner with his sister, sipping miserably at a negroni that Sarah was going to have to pay for. “Dan just reach out to her, how do you think anything ever happens here?”

“I don’t want a handout,” he repeated his argument. 

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, Daniel.”

“Hey!”

“I’m just _saying_. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Dan stayed quiet for a moment. “People find out I couldn’t do this on my own?”

“That’s not how it works and you know it.”

Dan grumbled for a moment. “Fine,” he said eventually, with more pout than necessary.

Stacey ended up enjoying his manuscript, but made him no promises. She said she’d drop it in her boss’s inbox—and the rest is kind of history. 

He feels good about this third story, about these pages. There’s nothing crazy about them, they follow what’s becoming his usual formula, which _works_ and still leaves him some room to be at least a little creative. 

He sighs at his reflection as he tucks a few front strands of hair. A _little_ creativity hadn’t been what he’d dreamed about, but he’s writing for a living, mostly on his own terms, and he’s grateful for that. And his bank account certainly has no complaints. 

Dan ushers Red out of the room and lets him out back before heading into his bright kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee (setting the timer for the morning is an integral part of his nighttime routine). He lets Red back in, and enjoys his coffee while Redmond eats breakfast.

Redmond clicks his way over to his bed in the corner after he finishes his food and Dan checks his watch. He has an hour or so to kill before brunch with Stacey, so he grabs his computer to work on an essay he’s writing for the LA Times. 

He can get a little too focused when he’s writing, so he sets an alarm and opens his laptop. 

*

Stacey’s already there when Dan arrives at the restaurant, and Dan can tell from the slightly dimmed smile she gives him that this meeting is going to go sideways pretty fast. All of the confidence he had in his draft is slowly draining from his body, and by the time he weaves over, he’s wishing he’d just ignored his alarm and stayed in bed.

He sits down slowly and doesn’t even reach for the drink Stacey had ordered for him, probably to take the sting off of whatever tragic news she was about to deliver. They hate the draft and they’re dropping his contract, probably. 

“Oh my god, Dan you look like you’re about to be sentenced to death,” Stacey greeted, rolling her eyes and pushing his glass a little closer to him. 

“Yes, because you’re doing a weird thing with your face and you’ve clearly ordered this drink so I’ll have something to console myself with after you fire me!”

Stacey huffs out a laugh, and Dan does not appreciate her amusement at his misery. 

“I don’t appreciate your amusement at my misery,” he hisses, but grabs the drink and takes a few large gulps. “Okay, lay it on me. Quick and painful.” Dan pulls his napkin onto his lap. 

“It’s _not_ a big deal. The story is good! I like it, Jenn likes it. It’s good!”

Dan narrows his eyes at her. “Okay,” he says, skeptical. “Then what’s with the—” he gestures to her… everything, “—this.”

The waiter interrupts Stacey’s next sentence, so they each order their usual, and Dan orders another drink. 

“You were saying?” Dan prompts immediately.

“Dan, have you ever _been_ to a small town?”

Dan blinks at her. “I—like Laguna Beach?”

Stacey laughs and covers her face for a moment. “No, Dan. I mean like. A _small town_. With no traffic lights, one bar, one diner, and under a thousand people. That kind of small town.”

“ _When_ would I have been to a place like that?”

Stacey raised her eyebrows. “Exactly. I know you’ve never been to a place like that, because I read your draft and… UberEats? Really? You wrote the main character going to the downtown arena to see an incredibly famous touring band.”

Dan opens his mouth to defend his craft, but deflates at Stacey’s raised eyebrow. 

Maybe she has a point. But this isn’t as bad as he thought. “Okay, so we’ll just edit all that out.”

“I have an idea,” she says, and her smile grows wide and Dan is clearly fucked because Stacey’s ideas are always the _worst_ and she somehow manages to convince him every single time. 

Their waiter brings over their meals, and Stacey graciously lets them both get a couple of bites in before she springs her plan on him. “One of my college friends lives in Mendocino, and I think it’s perfect for this. He has a cabin you can stay in. Go there. Immerse yourself. Come back and revise this draft so your readers feel like they’re _in_ Pine Grove with your characters.”

Dan gulps down the rest of his second drink, he kind of sees Stacey’s point, but says, “This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

*

The rain starts twenty minutes into his two-hour drive from the San Francisco airport to Mendocino, turning the windy, probably-scenic roads into a slippery, anxiety-inducing maze through what’s basically a remote forest. His flight was delayed _of course_ , and the sun is already setting, making his whole body clench anxiously as he keeps his eyes out for wild animals darting across the road.

He spends about half the time cursing Stacey and her weird persuasive hold over him, and the other half lamenting the fact that he’d left Redmond with her so he didn’t even have his best friend for company on this frankly _treacherous_ road trip. 

He manages to make it to the driveway of number 14 Pine Knot Way without incident, and he throws the car into park before heaving a deep sigh of relief. He peers through the windshield at the admittedly quaint lodging, admires the porch and what he can see of the landscaping in the halo of his headlights. 

Checking his phone to see if he’s missed any messages from Stacey about Redmond, he frowns as he sees the terrifying NO SERVICE icon in the corner of the screen. “Great,” Dan says to himself, dropping his hand into his lap. “This shack better have wi-fi,” he mumbles, unclipping his seatbelt and tugging his hood over his head. 

The walk with his luggage up to the door of the—would we call it a cabin?—is not ideal given the rain and the severe lack of outdoor lighting on the property, but he manages to punch in the four-digit code he memorized before he left his apartment. He gets himself inside the front door and drops his bags. 

The house is _nice_ , much bigger (and way more modern) on the inside than Dan expected, with a large foyer that opens to the living room on one side and a small dining room on the other. There’s a fireplace in front of the couch, and the two armchairs on either side look cozy enough to fall asleep in. 

Dan’s stomach grumbles, so he goes into the kitchen to see if there’s miraculously any snacks in the kitchen he can munch on before bed. There’s a bowl of apples on the kitchen island, and Dan plucks one out of the bunch, confirms that it’s not decorative, and heads to the sink to wash it. 

He leans back against the counter as he takes a crisp bite, eyes landing on various appliances including a coffee maker and a stand mixer. This cabin is surprisingly well-equipped for being a rental that's essentially in the middle of nowhere. He thinks he passed a school on his way in, but that’s about it, and he hopes he can get on the internet to find a few local spots to check out for his _research_ assignment. 

Sighing grumpily at the memory of Stacey’s gleeful expression as she doled out what is clearly a punishment (despite the admittedly lovely accommodations), Dan meanders around the island and steps on the tab at the bottom of the garbage can to snap the lid open. There are a few items in there already, which is weird because presumably the trash would have been emptied between guests, but Dan’s too tired to think much of it.

Bedtime snack finished, Dan hauls his stuff up the stairs and selects the first bedroom he sees. It’s a good size and the closet is nice and there’s an en suite bathroom. Dan sits heavily on the bed, flopping backward to stare at the ceiling. Should he at least explore the other bedrooms? Maybe there’s a better one. 

He mulls that over for a few minutes, then blinks his eyes open and jerks awake. “Time for bed,” he mutters, standing to rummage through his bags for his toiletries and sleep clothes. 

The bathroom is nice, too, and Dan will have to reluctantly admit to Stacey that this isn’t even the worst place he’s ever stayed in, cell service issues aside. Speaking of service, he tugs his phone out of his pocket and checks the available wi-fi networks. The strongest one is labeled Bandwidth on the Run, and it’s unlocked, which isn’t ideal, but Dan connects anyway and breathes a sigh of relief when the little icon shows full signal strength. 

He shoots Stacey a text to let her know he arrived unscathed, thanks so much for worrying about him. He also demands a photo of Red, and then finishes his nighttime routine relatively quickly.

The bed is comfy, which Dan did not expect because it’s covered in an old quilt that’s clearly from the 1800s, so he assumed the mattress was, too. He sets his glasses on the nightstand next to his plugged-in phone and pulls the covers up to his shoulders. 

He thinks about his non-existent plans for tomorrow. There’s probably a diner, so he should check that out. There are several diner scenes in his book that he based loosely off Luke’s diner in _Gilmore Girls_ (but he’ll be taking that to the grave), so it’ll be nice to have some real sources to add _authenticity_ Stacey thinks he needs. 

Dan scoffs to himself and turns on his side, tucking his hand up under his pillow. He thinks about what other small-town attractions he should look into, wonders if there’s a bar nearby, because he anticipates needing a drink eventually, and falls asleep easily.

*

Dan scares himself in the morning, blinking his eyes open without being prompted by an alarm, glancing around an unfamiliar room. He immediately assumes he’s been kidnapped. And placed in a mid-range semi-luxurious cabin with a Serta mattress and grandma’s quilt? 

Oh, god, is he in _Misery_?

He sits up and glances around the room, letting the sight of his luggage and shoes and a pile of his clothes soothe his racing heart. He presses his hand to his chest, rubbing gently, before blowing out a deep breath and giving his head a tiny shake. “Okay,” he whispers to himself. 

In the bathroom, the familiarity of his skincare lined up along the side of the sink does more to ease his kidnapping fears, and now he needs coffee. He tugs on a lounge sweater, peeking into the mirror to try to fix his hair before realizing there’s no point, it’s just the coffee maker he’s trying to impress. 

He pads down the stairs through the living room and into the kitchen. As he passes the fireplace, he wonders if it’s at all advisable for him to attempt to light a fire in it. It would be ridiculously idyllic to work on his novel in front of a crackling fire, but also a horrifying disaster if he burned down Stacey’s friend’s cabin. House. Chalet? 

After opening nearly every single cabinet looking for the coffee, Dan spots a canister sitting conveniently next to the Mr. Coffee machine aptly labeled simply “Joe.” He pops the top open to take a sniff. 

“Yep, coffee,” Dan says, dumping some into the mesh filter before moving to the sink to grab water. He peeks in the fridge to see if there’s filtered water, and is surprised to see so much food inside. Did Stacey have her friend stock this? There’s not much Dan would have selected himself, but he appreciates the gesture all the same, as he _will_ be requiring breakfast soon. There are at least eggs and he’s glad to know he has a bit more time before he absolutely has to interact with… people. 

Coffee brewing, Dan pokes around a few other nooks in the kitchen, letting out a pleased hum at the snack situation in the corner cabinet. The coffee maker beeps and Dan pulls down a mug from the open shelving—

“There’s creamer in the fridge if you need it,” says a voice from the archway between the living room and the kitchen. 

Dan honest-to-god shrieks, drops the mug, shattering it on the wood floor. He looks over at the rumpled, clearly just-woken-up man who spoke, and immediately runs to hide behind the wall that creates the small mudroom for the back door. 

His hair is definitely not in a state to be seen right now. God, he’s wearing _pajamas_! He _can’t_ get murdered in pajamas. 

“Okay, who are you?” He calls. “I—I know Krav Maga!” He crosses his arms across his chest, trying to make himself smaller, pressing himself against the back door. 

“Do you?” The man sounds amused. 

“I—yes, I do!” He doesn’t. 

“Okay, well, I don’t so please don’t attack me. Do you want to come out from there?”

“Attack _you_? You are clearly here to attack _me_! Who are you?!” Dan’s voice is getting higher in both pitch and volume and he can feel his heart rate spike. 

“Okay, let’s—I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Noah? Stacey’s friend?”

That makes a _little_ sense to Dan so he takes a deep breath, unfolding his arms to lean a hand against the wall. “Okay, what are you doing _here_ so early in the morning?” Dan asks, then remembers that Noah looked somewhat adorably rumpled. _Okay, you cannot think your attacker is adorable, Daniel._ “Did you _sleep_ here? Did you watch _me_ sleep!?”

“Oh my god, what? _No!_ Okay, do you want me to call Stacey? We can—I’m not a serial killer, I promise. Can you please come out from there? I’d—I think you should sit down.” Noah sounds concerned which is sweet, but Dan cancels that thought immediately because kidnappers are _not_ sweet. 

For some reason Dan can’t stomach the idea of Noah seeing _him_ all sleep-rumpled, so he definitely won’t be coming out from behind the wall. “I’m wearing pajamas.” That’s not what Dan intended to say _at all_.

“Right. So am I.”

Dan makes a distressed noise. 

“Here, why don’t… I’ll turn around so I don’t see you in your pajamas—even though I saw you in them already. And you can go around through the dining room, either upstairs or have a seat on the couch. I’ll clean up this mess and bring you coffee. Then we can figure all this out. I think—sometimes Stacey leaves out the details, which I find ridiculous considering she’s an editor.”

Dan huffs out a laugh involuntarily. “Yeah. Okay. You turn around. And close your eyes. I’ll—I’ll go change. I take cream and sugar in my coffee.”

“Noted,” Noah says, and he sounds like he’s laughing, too. Hmph. 

*

After grabbing a toque to hide his wild hair and some socks to combat the cold floors downstairs, Dan shuffles slowly back to the kitchen where Noah is standing in front of two steaming mugs. The ceramic shards are gone, a broom with a dustpan hooked onto the handle leans against the wall opposite the island. Noah slides one mug across the island, along with the cream and the sugar, and gestures for Dan to sit down on one of the stools. “Thought it’d be better if you fixed your own.”

“Thanks,” Dan says softly, settling onto the stool. He dumps appropriate amounts of both cream and sugar into his drink until it’s appropriately caramel-colored, and gently takes the spoon Noah hands him to stir it all together. He’s wearing blue and green flannel pajama pants and a white t-shirt with a stretched collar that gives Dan a tease of the hair on Noah’s chest. He looks away once Noah starts talking. 

“So—I’m _really_ sorry about all this. Stacey… she asked me if I could host you for a few days because you’re writing a book? And I have plenty of space so I agreed. But… I’m guessing the story Stacey told _you_ was, uh, different?” He runs a hand through the mess of curls on his head. 

Dan cups his mug between his palms, trying to focus on the intense warmth instead of the way Noah’s shirt stretches across his chest and shoulders. “Mm, she may have given me the impression that you were… renting this cabin. To other people. Like without you also inside it.” He takes a sip of his too-hot coffee for lack of anything else to do. He can’t look Noah in the eyes for too long. 

Noah grimaces and nods, taking a sip from his own mug. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you last night, but I had someone at the bar to work on the flooring and the install ran a lot later than I planned, which I should have known by now.” He huffs out a laugh.

Dan nods, but doesn’t ask for details. He can’t wrap his head around any of this. Though if Noah’s a bartender, things are definitely looking up. 

“Look, I sent a quick text to a friend while you were upstairs, and she’s got a couch I can stay on—”

“What? No, I can’t _kick you out of your own house_ ,” Dan says. “I’ll—I’ll just head back to L.A. and tell Stacey to forget it.”

Noah lets out a laugh and takes another drink. “I’d love to watch you explain that to Stacey.”

Dan frowns down at his coffee and ignores the way Noah’s laugh makes something twist in his stomach. Noah has a point. “Well, there must be a hotel nearby—”

“—it’s 20 miles away.”

Dan’s shoulders slumped. “B&B?” He asks weakly. 

“ _Several_ , but no vacancies—Harvest Fest starts tomorrow.”

“Oh of course. Why wouldn’t it? I should have known better than to trust Stacey, I should have done my own research.” Dan sighs, slipping his hand under his hood to scratch through his hair. He’s usually more prepared than this. Noah leans his forearms down on the counter, which is quite a view for Dan, and he misses the first half of what Noah says. 

“What?” Dan says, blinking a few times. Noah grins. 

“I was saying if you don’t want to kick me out of my house the only other option is we both stay here.”

Dan blinks again. “Like, together?”

Noah nods and sips his coffee. “Well there are three bedrooms, so yes, together. And a couch if you want me to sleep down here.”

“God, no, sleep in your bedroom, I’ll—I guess we’ll just—I’ll just stay with you. Yes.”

“Ah yes, filled with enthusiasm, that’s the spirit,” Noah teases and lifts his mug in Dan’s direction. 

Dan glares at him. He does smile, too, but that’s an accident. “Sorry, it’s just—”

“Hey, no need to justify… well, anything. This whole situation is… weird. Why don’t I let you get cleaned up—”

Dan raises an eyebrow.

“Er—not that you’re _not_ clean, I just mean—okay, I’m going upstairs and you can… do what you need to so I can take you to breakfast. It’s the least I can do. Plus, you can see the diner. Stacey told me some of the things in town that might help you, research-wise.” Noah takes a deep breath at the end of his ramble and Dan is… _charmed_. His ego is still bruised from his behavior when Noah surprised him earlier, but his stomach does something weird again when Noah smiles at him.

Great. Just what he needs.

“I’ll just grab some more coffee and ‘get cleaned up,’ then,” he says softly.

“Yes—you do that,” Noah mumbles and focuses on his own drink while Dan refills his and heads upstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

Dan’s heart and stomach finally settle down once he’s out of the shower and done with his hair, and he sends Stacey a sternly worded text message about the “misunderstanding” she orchestrated. He doesn’t wait for her response before pocketing his phone and heading back downstairs. 

Noah is waiting in the living room in jeans and a henley, socked feet propped up on the coffee table, typing something on his phone. He’s—he looks _good_ and Dan is _definitely_ in trouble. 

“Hey!” Noah says, jumping up and meeting Dan by the front door. “Ready to go? The pancakes at Hattie’s are _awesome._ As are the BLTs, so we should probably go there for lunch one day.” He shoves his feet in a pair of sneakers and grabs his keys off a set of hooks next to the door. 

“We should, huh?” Dan says.

“I didn’t mean to—you can obviously go by yourself. Or with someone else!”

Dan tries to hide a smirk as Noah fidgets with his keys. “Maybe we can circle back to that later.”

Noah shoves his keys in his pocket. “Yeah—yes. Let’s go.” He tugs open the door and Dan follows him outside. 

It’s cool out, the right temperature for October in a coastal NorCal town, and Dan is pleased with his wardrobe choice of a loose cashmere sweater and black jeans. The cool breeze is nice, and Dan can feel it ruffling the front of his carefully styled hair, so he ducks into Noah’s car as quickly as possible. 

The car is… old. 20 years, easily. The seat is awkwardly squishy, and when Dan reaches between his knees to shove it back for some extra legroom, he comes up empty. “Ah, yeah, sorry, it’s a bit tricky. I had the seat pushed up to move some stuff for a friend, let me just—” He places a hand on the back of Dan’s seat and leans over slightly to reach under it with his other hand. 

The position is—awkward and Dan presses his lips together and stares out the window, fighting back a fit of laughter. Noah’s face is dangerously close to Dan’s torso and… other things, so he tries to hold his breath, too. He’s suddenly extremely grateful he was able to ‘get cleaned up.’

“Sorry,” Noah laughs softly as he sits up again. He tucks his hand next to Dan’s leg to push the seat back. Dan has plenty of room to move his leg over, and he does, maybe, a little, but he mostly just thinks about the heat of Noah’s pinky through his jeans. 

“It’s all right,” Dan replies, and his voice is doing a weird soft and floaty thing that needs to be canceled, like, _now_. But then Noah smiles at him again and he feels like he can’t _breathe._

The car is chilled from being outside overnight, and Dan gives an involuntary shiver.

“Here—” Noah reaches into the back seat and pulls forward a fluffy blanket. “The drive is short enough that the car won’t warm up anyway, so use this.” He arranges it carefully over Dan’s lap—and Dan lets him—until Noah catches Dan’s eye and sits back in his seat abruptly. He clears his throat loudly and starts the car. “You’ve—you’ve got that.” He gestures to Dan’s entire self.

“Mmm,” Dan hums and finishes tucking the blanket around his legs as Noah backs out of the driveway.

*

Noah effortlessly parallel parks into a spot a block away from the diner, and they walk side-by-side down the sidewalk, taking up way too much space across the concrete in Dan’s opinion. There are more people out and about than Dan expected, given the time of day, but it isn’t crowded when they step into the warmth of the diner. 

“Hey, Hattie,” Noah greets, and a short, plump woman with a blonde bob turns towards them from behind the diner counter. 

“Noah! It’s been three whole days without you coming in for pancakes, I was going to send a search party,” Hattie says, pouring coffee for a patron sitting at the counter. “Who’s your date?”

“Hattie,” Noah whispers, scolding, and Hattie winks at them. Dan _loves_ Hattie already. “This is Dan, he’s a friend of a friend. He’s in town to do research for his next book.” Dan gives a little wave and Hattie wiggles her fingers back at them.

“Well, welcome, Dan! Take anywhere that’s open,” she says, nodding to the tables. 

“You want a booth?” Noah asks, tilting his head towards the vinyl seating against the wall. 

“Please.” Dan nods and follows him over to a booth near the back. “So, you… come here often?” Dan teases once they’re seated, flipping over the menu he pulled from behind the tiny jukebox at the back of the table. 

Noah grins down at the table and scrubs a hand through the back of his hair. “It's the only place to eat a proper breakfast and… eating alone in that big kitchen gets old after a while.” 

“I bet.” Dan was absolutely not imagining joining Noah for said breakfasts in that big kitchen. “How long have you lived here? You seem to… know people.”

“Just over three years, I think? Sounds right.” Noah doesn’t grab a menu.

“Do you already know what you want?”

“I told you: the pancakes are awesome. I recommend the blueberry ricotta,” Noah says, leaning forward to point at a menu item. Noah could have suggested carrot cake pancakes or an overcooked omelet and Dan would have probably said yes. Blueberry ricotta are a favorite of his from the place near his apartment in LA. 

“Mm. Sold.” He snaps the menu shut and shoves it back behind the jukebox. “People put money in these things?”

Noah shrugs. “Sometimes.” 

“I see the selection is quite up-to-date,” Dan comments, noticing several hits from The Doobie Brothers as well as ABBA. “And eclectic.”

“Yeah, Hattie’s pretty committed to her aesthetic.”

Dan blinks and holds back several snarky comments about the idea of referring to anything in this specific diner as _aesthetic_. “I—bet."

Hattie comes over to pour them coffee, and Noah asks for two orders of the blueberry ricotta pancakes as well as a vanilla bean milkshake for himself. “You want a milkshake?” He asks Dan as he dumps a pile of sugar into his coffee cup. 

“I’m good. It’s 9 in the morning.”

Noah shrugs again and stirs his coffee. “Always time for a milkshake.”

“Okay. Learning a lot about small-town life already.”

“See, you’re a natural.”

“I’m _clearly_ not.”

Noah keeps smiling at him, and it’s freaking Dan out, so he turns his attention to his drink and takes a tentative sip of coffee. He’s expecting the worst, because this is a diner after all, but he’s pleasantly surprised by the rich, kind of nutty flavor. He takes another sip. “This is great coffee,” he comments, and can’t keep the surprise from his voice. 

Noah sips his own. “Yeah, Terry, Hattie’s husband, roasts the beans here in town. They sell it special online.”

“They sell it _online_? From _here_? I can barely get cell service from the cabin.” Hattie comes over with their pancakes and Noah’s inexplicable morning milkshake.

“Can I get you boys anything else?”

“We’re good, thanks Hattie,” Noah says and Dan mutters his own thanks as Hattie shuffles away to clear a nearby table. “Yeah, the cabin is actually pretty far out of town. Well, compared to everything _in_ town. You’ll notice that we didn’t pass much on the way in. Everything is west of the cabin: the post office, the bookstore, the bakery, the general store. My bar is just down Main Street next to the hardware store.”

“Yeah, you mentioned the bar—you own it?” Dan asks and takes a bite of pancakes. “Oh my god,” he says immediately, mouth still stuffed with food. The pancakes are _delicious_. Dan is never going to eat another pancake ever again. In fact, he’s going to move into Hattie’s and live on these pancakes.

“Told you,” Noah says, amused, and takes his own bite. He gets whipped cream on his face and Dan watches him try to lick it off before deciding a napkin would be a better option, which is a blessing because Dan doesn’t think he’d be able to handle more of Noah’s tongue. Noah wipes at his face and immediately takes another huge bite. 

Dan shifts in his seat and turns his gaze back to his pancakes. Noah shouldn’t be able to make shoveling food into his mouth look so appealing, and Dan is frustrated with himself for even entertaining any kind of idea about… Noah’s anything. He takes another bite of pancake and chews thoughtfully, wondering if it’s even a good idea for him to stay in Noah’s cabin. 

God, just the phrase _stay in Noah’s cabin_ makes Dan flush. And it shouldn’t, because the cabin is cold, and kind of drafty, and has no cell service. 

His traitorous brain takes the opportunity to flash a warm and cozy scene into Dan’s mind. A fire crackling in the living room; Noah in a white tee and socked feet bringing dan hot cocoa with extra marshmallows; Dan snuggling up under Noah’s arm—

“Dan?” Noah asks loudly, as if this isn’t the first time he tried to get Dan’s attention. 

“Hmm?” Dan replies, giving his head a shake. “What?”

Noah huffs out a laugh. “Are you okay? You kinda zoned out… feeling like you’re in the Twilight Zone already?”

Dan takes a deep breath and sets down his fork to take another long sip of coffee. He’s going to have to derail that fireside train of thought _immediately_. Right—subject change.

“Tell me about your bar.” 

Noah lights up, then, and launches into a story about buying the bar from a friend’s grandfather’s business partner, the process of getting the bank loan—Dan briefly wonders if Noah wore a suit to the bank—the iterations of business plans, the various design sketches, and where in the process he’s at now. 

“All of the major stuff is in there, we’re just working on fixtures and stuff now, plus the bathrooms. A few more things and then we can have the booths re-installed.”

Dan nods, impressed with it all. “You kept the originals?”

“Yeah, they’d been refinished within the last two years and I think they still fit with the… feel, you know.” Noah shrugs again and rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s… I’ve never done anything like this before so it’s all a bit—I mean I’m just figuring things out.”

“Sure,” Dan says encouragingly. “It sounds like things are going well.”

“So far so good,” Noah murmurs, the corner of his mouth quirking up. 

Noah pays, as promised, and leaves Dan at the diner once they finish eating—says he has to meet his contractor at the bar—so Dan agrees that they’ll meet back here for lunch. Dan orders a second cup of coffee when Hattie comes around to collect their plates. 

“Oh and—do you have any paper? I usually have a notebook with me but this morning was—kinda hectic.”

“Sure thing,” Hattie says, and returns with a booklet that’s used to take orders. “This was all I could scrounge up. I can call over to the General Store, if you need a proper notebook?” She pours more coffee into Dan’s mug.

Dan was half pleased and half freaked out at the generosity. “Oh, no, no, that won’t be necessary, thank you so much. This is fine—perfect even.” He takes the pad and pen and sets it on the table. He generally prefers taking notes on paper, as opposed to using his phone, even if it’s a receipt or the back of a playbill or, apparently, an order pad at a small-town diner. 

He spends a while making notes, scribbling down phrases to describe the dining area, notices a door marked _Private Dining_ near the back, and makes a note about a family event that takes place in his manuscript. The booth squeaks when he shifts, and he scratches a note about a _squeaky booth?_ as a fun diner feature for his main characters. 

Once he’s done with his coffee, he rips off the few sheets he’d made notes on and tucks them into his pocket. He checks his phone to see how much time he has until he meets Noah for lunch, and decides to head to the General Store to get a feel for the place, and also to buy something truly hideous to bring back for Stacey. 

He waves bye to Hattie on his way out, and makes his way across the street to the General Store. It’s next to a florist on one side, which is only open Friday - Sunday, and surprisingly, a pet supply store on the other. Dan will definitely be stopping to grab something for Redmond.

In the store, Dan walks the row of tourist knick-knacks—shot glasses, magnets, key chains, inexplicable giant pens—and stops in front of a rack of coasters. He grins and grabs a pack with bee puns on them— _bee yourself_. 

“Can I help you with anything?” The young woman behind the counter arches a pierced eyebrow. He’s about to decline assistance as he wanders past a shelf of mugs with a bunch of wildlife cartoons, but then he sees a flyer for the Harvest Festival that Noah mentioned. 

He sidles over to the counter. “So… what’s the deal with this Harvest Festival? I heard that all the B&B’s are booked because of it. It’s kind of a big deal then?”

“Oh, yeah. The biggest deal.” She heaves a huge sigh, well-practiced, and Dan imagines growing up in a small town and dealing with an influx of tourists every year for an event you probably want nothing to do with. He tries to make a sympathetic face at her. “Here’s a schedule of the events,” she continues, handing him a bright orange piece of paper from a stack on the counter. 

It’s hideously designed, and Dan can’t tell if it’s on purpose or not. The number of pumpkins alone is off-putting, but then Dan’s eyes snag on the word _s’mores competition_ and he’s all of a sudden _quite_ interested. “S’mores?” He says eloquently, but the woman huffs out a bored laugh at least. 

“Yep.” Her tone is aloof and judgemental and bored in the way that Dan remembers from his years at the Gap answering dumb questions. 

Dan hums, reading through the other events—standard autumnal activities like caramel apple dipping, pumpkin picking, pumpkin _carving_ , and the list goes on. The festival is only a few days, so Dan isn’t quite sure how all of this will take place. “So tell me more about the s’mores,” he prompts. “I’m Dan, by the way,” he extends his hand and she shakes it briefly. 

“Hannah.” She gives him a small smile. “It’s a new contest this year. My dad is on the planning committee and the meetings are at our house. You’re clearly a tourist but you’re not here for the festival?”

“I’m—it’s a long story, but essentially I’m writing a book?”

“About Mendocino?” Hannah is borderline appalled and Dan laughs, shaking his head. 

“No, it’s fiction, but it takes place in a small town like this and I’ve—” he chews his lip, “never _been_ to a small town like this. So I’m doing a bit of reconnaissance, if you will.” 

“Does your book feature s’mores, too?”

“No that’s—that’s my raging sweet tooth.” Hannah nods, looks at him like he might be an alien but she’s not unhappy about it, which Dan is going to call neutral. 

“Well, in that case,” she grabs a bright yellow flyer from another stack that Dan’s just noticing. “Here’s the s’mores info.”

Dan opens his mouth to thank her, but a family of five comes into the store, so Dan smiles his gratitude and heads back out onto Main Street. He tucks the flyers into his pocket and pulls out his phone to specifically ignore any texts that Stacey has sent him. There is one, and it says

_Sorry! Misunderstanding. Noah’s a great guy!_

And Dan doesn’t know what _that_ has to do with anything, but he thumbs the app closed, ready to pull up Instagram, before he remembers he’s supposed to be observing small-town life and not walking down the street like some 21st century Belle. He stuffs his phone back into his pocket and walks further up the street past a bakery, a Mexican café and what looks like a very small art gallery, boasting “local artisan exhibits."

He changes course and doubles back to the bakery, like a cartoon character lured by the sweet scent wafting towards him as a customer walks out the door. There is a sign that says “Fresh Doughnuts” in the window and that seals Dan’s fate. He tugs open the door, gets smacked in the face with the smell of fried dough.

His mouth waters and he gets in the short line, eyeing up every single baked good in the case a few feet ahead. He’s wondering how much he can buy without getting strange looks when the man taking orders at the cash register calls him forward. Dan glances at the nametag he’s wearing: Terry.

“Terry!” Dan exclaims. “Hattie’s Terry? The coffee guy.”

Terry grins. “Yep, Hattie’s Terry,” he says, voice deep and kind of gruff. “The coffee guy.”

“Hi—I’m. I mean you don’t know me. It’s just that I was at Hattie’s this morning, and my—I complimented the coffee, and my friend, well—anyway he told me that you roast the beans here?"

“You’re Dan, huh,” Terry says, and Dan blinks. 

“Um.”

“Noah called about an hour ago—asked me to put a few things aside in the event you stopped by.”

“He—he did?” Dan’s cheeks were heating up and he was probably going to be able to bake something on them soon.

“You want a coffee, too?” Terry asked, pulling a pink bakery box out from under the counter. 

He definitely did. “Please.” He nodded. “Um—how did you know it was me?” 

Terry just adds cream and sugar to his coffee—and Dan assumes Noah shared that with him as well. Maybe Noah is a stalker and Stacey doesn't know him as well as she thinks he does. Terry refuses to let him pay for his treats, but Dan shoves a ten into the tip jar before heading back out. 

He looks up the street, wonders how far Noah’s bar is. He sees a furniture delivery truck further up the block and decides to see if maybe Noah is the one getting something delivered. If not, he’ll head back to the diner to wait.

As he gets closer, Dan sees Noah. He steadfastly ignores the way his heartbeat speeds up, blames his shallow breathing on the fact that he’s out of shape and this is a slight incline. Noah looks the same as he did at the diner, obviously, so Dan doesn’t know what his nervous and/or vascular system is getting so bent out of shape about. It can’t be the fit of Noah’s faded jeans, or the way he runs his fingers through his curly hair, or the way his biceps bulge when he crosses his arms over his chest. 

It’s probably none of those things. It’s just Dan’s eating habits, which are robust, and his exercise habits, which are not. 

He nearly drops his coffee when Noah turns to him and beams a smile right at Dan’s chest—he can almost _feel_ it punching right into his heart. He considers turning around and never looking back, but then Noah’s beckoning him over and Dan’s feet plod forward without his permission. 

“Hey!” Noah greets him once he’s close enough to hear. “I see you found the bakery.”

“I… did,” Dan answers, biting his lip. 

“You meet Terry? He’s awesome.”

“Yes, he’s—he’s great. You—you called him so I could have some stuff?”

Noah presses his lips together and puffs out his cheeks for a moment. “I—Stacey told me about your sweet tooth and then the pancakes confirmed it, and I guess I just wanted to do something nice. Besides Terry always runs out of doughnuts and his are the best and I wanted to make sure you got to have some.”

Dan avoids thinking about what _else_ Stacey told Noah about him. “So, this is the bar?” Dan nods toward the short building behind them. 

“It is!” Noah says, spreading his arms wide. “Come on in, I just got barstools delivered.” 

Noah’s bar is a lot nicer than Dan thought it would be, based solely on the whole “rustic hometown” vibe of the town. It’s not making any bougie top-ten lists, obviously, but Dan is thoroughly impressed on the tour Noah gives him. 

They’re sitting at the bar, bakery box open in front of them, and Dan listens to Noah talk about the upcoming deliveries and finishes for the next few weeks. Well, he's mostly listening. He’s also watching Noah’s mouth form words, the way he sometimes talks from the corner of his mouth, or rubs his lips together between sentences. Dan’s distracted, definitely, by everything Noah does. 

Dan sucks a finger into his mouth to get at a smear of chocolate frosting, and doesn’t realize Noah has stopped talking until he looks back up to see Noah’s wide eyes blinking back at him. “Uh—” he starts, but has no words to finish.

Noah shakes his head slightly and stands. “Sorry, uh. We should head to lunch? Not that… you’ll be hungry…” He trails off and Dan glances guiltily at the half-empty pastry box. “I mean—! Not that I’m not thrilled you enjoyed the doughnuts! Obviously. I mean obviously I wanted you to eat them.” Noah rubs at the back of his neck and blows out a breath between pursed lips. “Okay.”

Several seconds pass and Dan can't stand it. “I saw a sign for chicken noodle soup when we were at Hattie’s this morning.”

“Yes, perfect. Soup at Hattie’s. And BLTs.” He nods decisively.

*

Soup (and BLTs) at Hattie’s is amazing, just like the pancakes, even though he feels like he could burst. He thinks he should actually be writing a book on this whole small-town-diner-with-amazing-food anomaly. He bites into the crusty bread that came with his soup, spraying crumbs everywhere that he hastily brushes off himself. Noah’s sitting across from him, bracing his chin on his hand, elbow on the table, grinning. Dan makes a questioning noise, and wipes at his face in case there’s something there. 

“They’re playing Hocus Pocus on the wall of Town Hall tonight. Do you wanna go?” Noah asks out of nowhere.

Dan takes a huge gulp of water to wash down his bread. “Sorry—on the wall?”

“Yeah, out back. We set up chairs and stuff. It’s kind of like tailgating… have you… been tailgating?”

“ _Yes_ , I’ve been tailgating, Noah, I’m not a recluse.”

“Clearly.” 

Dan is sure that is some kind of shade, but Noah delivers it with a distracting smirk so Dan doesn’t stop to think about it. 

“Anyway,” Noah continues, “what do you say?”

Dan wants to say yes. But… he didn’t come to Mendocino to fall way too fast for a townie and then leave in three days. They don’t even have anything in _common_ , what would they _talk_ about, it’s just— 

“It’s not glamorous but it _is_ fun?” Noah says, soft and hopeful, and _damn him_ for being so charming. 

“Okay.”

Noah beams at him. “Okay.”

*

Noah drops Dan off at the cabin after lunch, explaining he has to head back to the bar for a few more hours, and Dan spends most of the afternoon poring over his manuscript in the living room and debating scrapping the whole damn thing, even though he was so sure about it a week ago. 

Dan shuts his laptop with a deep sigh. He’ll have to come back to that tomorrow. He tips sideways on the couch just as he hears Noah’s car pull up, the engine rattling distinctly. He should sit up, make himself look presentable, but before he can gather the energy, Noah is walking in the front door. 

He can’t see Dan, and Dan doesn’t want to startle him, so he calls out, “Hi.”

“Oh, hey!” Noah greets, rounding the arm of the couch. “Are you… okay?”

“Yeah.” Dan sits up. “I was working on my book.”

“Oh, that good, huh?”

“It’s—it’s fine it’s just—ugh it’s fine. I’m ready to not think about it for a while.” 

Noah looks like he _wants_ to talk about it, but he nods instead and gestures to the stairs. “I’m just gonna change, things were a little crazy at the bar.” 

Dan nods. “Hey what are we doing for dinner?”

*

Dinner prep is minimal, it’s mostly Noah narrating what he’s doing as he puts two mini chicken pot pies in the oven and pulls out ingredients to make _salad dressing from scratch_. 

“I’m sorry,” Dan teases, leaning forward on his arms as he sits at the counter. “I didn’t realize I was staying with a professional chef.”

Noah smiles shyly down at the cutting board. “It’s not a big deal.”

Dan doesn’t start a debate, just watches Noah work, thoroughly impressed. 

“The pot pies are from Hattie’s, and they’re—”

“—awesome?” 

“ _Yes_ , actually,” Noah says, dropping tomatoes pointedly into a large bowl.

Dan grins and reaches in to grab a piece. “Can’t wait,” he says. 

*

The Town Hall is basically just that… a giant room with a stage. It’s basically a gymnasium with a few doors on one side that Dan assumes lead to offices. Noah guides him through the room—a few groups of people holding chairs are chatting off to one side, and Noah waves at a few people. Dan hoists his own chair further under his arm, and wonders what it’s like to live in a place where you’re actually inclined to communicate with people you see in public places. 

“I had someone save us seats,” Noah says as they reach the back door. 

“Seats?” Dan repeats. 

Noah turns with a grin. “Okay, fair. I had someone save us a patch of dying grass in a good spot.”

Dan laughs quietly, ducking his head as they walk down a few steps into an open grassy area. There are quite a few people there already, setting up their seating areas. Some folks have folding tables, and it really _is_ like tailgating. Dan is surprised so many people are here to watch _Hocus Pocus,_ but he guesses there might not be… anything else to do.

Someone calls Noah’s name from a “second-row” spot on the left side of the seating and Dan turns to see a tall, thin woman gesturing them over to a cozy spot of grass. Noah waves back and leads Dan over to her, and Dan stands back to watch them greet each other with a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“You must be Dan,” the woman says as she and Noah separate. “I’m Annie.”

Dan wonders briefly if there was some kind of town-wide bulletin about the stranger staying at Noah Reid’s for the week. “Hi,” he says tentatively.

“Annie works with me at the bar, or, well she will once it’s open,” Noah tells him. 

Dan nods in understanding. 

“Noah tells me you’re writing a book,” Annie says as Noah sets up his chair, setting down the six-pack of beer they brought. “Is it your first novel?”

They chat for a few minutes, and Dan lets Noah take the chair from his arms to set that up, too. Dan gives Annie the cliff notes of his writing career and listens to Annie share the story of how she ended up in town. 

Noah’s settled into his chair with an open beer by the time they are done, and Dan sits gingerly on his own. Hattie, their host for the evening, announces the five-minute warning. 

“Beer?” Noah offers, and Dan nods, weirdly charmed when Noah opens it for him. Dan’s been on _actual_ dates with less thoughtful and accommodating people. Annie leans in to Noah’s other side to hold her bottle up.

“Cheers to the unofficial start of Harvest Fest!” She exclaims, and they clink the necks of their bottles together. That explains why this wasn’t on the Harvest Fest flyer. 

Noah leans closer to him to whisper, “We do this to celebrate before all the tourists join in the official events. Something low-key to kick-start the chaos.” Noah winks at him, he thinks, it’s almost a full blink, and Dan presses his lips together to keep his giddy smile at bay as he nods. He takes a swig of his beer—it’s not bad, a little citrusy—and settles into his chair, and definitely doesn’t lean closer to Noah at all. 

*

Dan is kind of exhausted when they finally get back to Noah’s. He lets Noah take the chair from his hands and set it on the porch next to the door, and ignores the warmth of Noah’s hand on the small of his back as he guides Dan over the threshold. 

They both toe off their shoes in the entryway, and Noah hangs his keys on the hook inside the door. “So, how was your first day of small-town life?” Noah asks, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. 

Dan smiles and dips his head in a nod, crossing his arms because he doesn’t know what to do with them. “Quite an experience. There was a pleasantly surprising amount of baked goods involved.”

Noah smiles warmly back at him, eyes sparkling even in the low light of the room. They’re standing closer than Dan thought they were a moment ago—did Noah move closer? Noah blinks slowly, and Dan’s kind of breathless. He’s filled, suddenly, with a wave of want so strong he thinks it might propel him forward. 

Dan draws in a sharp breath, startling both of them and then he takes a step back, trying not to think too much about the disappointed crease between Noah’s eyebrows. “I should—” Dan whispers, clearing his throat. “I should get to bed. I—thank you, Noah. For today. For—” he breathes out through pursed lips before he can give a sermon about how much he loved every second he spent with Noah, and not just because of the pastries. “Good night.” 

Dan turns towards the stairs as Noah replies with his own soft _good night_ and forces himself not to look back. He needs to get control of himself, because he feels like one more glance at Noah’s earnest face will send him swooning right into his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Dan is a lot better prepared to go into the kitchen for coffee. After spending an unknown amount of time in bed, half-asleep, definitely not replaying every moment he spent with Noah the day before, and _definitely_ not specifically the whole reserved baked goods situation, he changes into other-people appropriate lounge clothes and heads into the bathroom. 

Before he heads downstairs, he checks his hair again, because he thinks he heard who he hopes is Noah—and not another person he didn’t know was living here—in the kitchen. Not that he needs to look good for Noah, because obviously Noah is just a generous person letting Dan crash in his very spacious cabin. Not some kind of… love interest that he’s trying to impress. He’s just… _charming_ , Noah is charming. It must be a small-town thing. Dan has seen these kinds of movies before.

He rolls his eyes at himself and leaves the bathroom before his brain can get any more wild ideas like Noah intercepting him at the top of the stairs with a mug of coffee and an incandescent good morning kiss. Dan shakes his head as he descends the stairs, hoping that his imagination doesn’t run amok in _every_ room of the house. 

When he walks through the doorway to the kitchen, Noah’s leaning against the island, reading something on his phone. “Morning,” Dan greets, clearing his throat when it comes out sleep-rough. 

Noah looks up and sets his phone on the counter, giving Dan a wide grin. “Dan, hi. Good morning.”

Dan touches the corner of his glasses to push them up his nose. “Hi.”

“There’s coffee,” Noah offers, gesturing towards the appliance on the counter. 

Dan busies himself with fixing his coffee in the mug Noah left for him. It has a Canadian flag on it, which makes Dan smile. He knows Noah is from Canada, and he assumes Noah knows he is, too. 

“I was thinking we could have French toast for breakfast? Then I have to head over to the bar for a bit.”

Dan blinks. “French toast obviously sounds amazing. I was going to do a bit of writing today,” he says, sliding onto a barstool. “Might head over to the bakery again.”

Noah grins. 

“For the ambiance!” Dan doesn’t appreciate the implication that he’s obsessed with pastries.

“Of course. The ambiance.” 

“Hmph. I thought you were making me breakfast.” Dan takes a careful sip of coffee.

“Oh, making _you_ breakfast, eh?”

Dan feels a blush spread on his cheeks and hides in his coffee. “Okay, making _us_ breakfast.” Noah smiles at him for another few beats before moving over to the fridge. 

“Can I help?” Dan offers once Noah has all the ingredients on the counter. “I’ve… eaten French toast before.”

Noah huffs out a laugh and nods. “Oh, I believe you.”

Dan helping turns into Dan cooking while Noah coaches him, standing closer than necessary, Dan thinks, but he’s not going to say anything about it, especially not when Noah’s arm brushes Dan’s as he reaches to correct Dan’s dredging technique. Noah steps away to heat up the pan, and Dan is able to breathe normally again. 

They eat at the kitchen table, rather than at the island, sitting around the corner from each other so that every now and then their knees brush. Noah douses his French toast in syrup, holding up the bottle in a silent question to Dan. Dan nods and Noah gives Dan’s breakfast the same treatment. “Thanks,” Dan murmurs, picking up his coffee and taking a long sip before he accidentally says anything else in that low, intimate voice. 

The sound of their clinking utensils against their plates, and their ceramic mugs against the wood of the table fills the kitchen—they don’t talk much beyond comments about the movie last night, Dan’s newfound French toast skills, and Canada, of course. 

Noah insists on clearing the table, and Dan excuses himself to shower. Noah offers to drive him over to Terry’s on his way to the bar.

“That’s okay, I can drive there. I’m sure I can find my way.”

“Well, I thought I could drive you, and then maybe we could meet for lunch? If we drive to the other end of town there’s a pretty good pizza place. And then I could take you on a proper tour?”

The tone of Noah’s voice makes that sound like a euphemism, or maybe it’s the look in Noah’s eyes. Or maybe it’s Dan’s traitorous brain’s wishful thinking. 

Dan agrees in the name of pizza and pizza only—it has nothing to do with Noah or his eyes or the way he bites the corner of his full bottom lip while he waits for Dan’s answer.

Noah continues. “It’s no problem. It’ll be nice—I don’t get over there that often, but Annie’s coming to the bar this afternoon to meet the plumber and stall fabricators. So I’m free to show you around.”

Dan’s talking before he can stop himself. “Did you… ask Annie to cover for you? So you could show me around?” He snaps his mouth shut, because no matter _what_ the answer is he definitely doesn’t want to know.

Noah’s grinning now. “Maybe I did,” he shrugs and crosses his arms. 

To avoid any further embarrassment, and for lack of anything else to say, Dan just hums and looks towards the doorway to the living room. All this eye contact can’t be good for him. “Okay. I’ll just… go get ready…” he trails off, shuffling sideways, not turning around even though he desperately needs to stop looking at Noah. 

“I’ll meet you in the living room in a bit.”

Dan nods, doesn’t dare speak. 

“Take your time.”

Dan nods again and then he can’t see Noah, disappearing around the corner of the stairs. The only reason he doesn’t _bolt_ straight up to his room is that he doesn’t want Noah to hear him stomping up the stairs, running away. 

As it is, when he gets to his room, he leans against his closed door and sucks in a huge gulp of air. “Okay, Daniel,” he says out loud to the room. “You need to get control of this… _whatever_. You’re not in a movie, you’re in the real world, and you _need_ to focus on research for your book.” 

Almost on cue, Dan’s phone buzzes on the nightstand, startling him out of his self-pep talk. He grabs it clumsily, still somewhat dazed from his breakfast and subsequent _is-this-flirting?_ conversation with Noah. 

It’s Stacey. “Thank you for _finally_ returning my phone calls,” he answers, and frowns when Stacey simply says _you’re welcome._ “Number one, how is my Reddy? Number two, I can’t believe you did this to me,” he hisses.

“Yes, yes, I know, Redmond’s fine and I got all of your dramatic texts.”

“Dramatic! I’m stuck in a strange place with a _stranger_!” He whisper-yells as he hears Noah’s footsteps on the stairs. He doesn’t want Noah to hear him sound upset, because then he might not take Dan for pizza later. 

“That’s interesting, because _I_ heard you went on a date with him last night?” Stacey replies, her voice teasing and _very_ annoying. 

“It wasn’t—! How do you even—? I went to a _community event_ in the name of _research_ , I’ll have you know. Since, you know, you _banished_ me to this—this _place_.” 

“Dan,” Stacey says, and her voice isn’t teasing anymore. It’s soft and serious and a little somber. “It’s okay to have _fun_ you know.”

Dan bites his lip and looks around his room, like someone’s going to be holding up a cue card for his next line. He sighs. “I know, and yes it was fun to watch a movie in a field like I’m in a teen movie but it’s not—there’s nothing there, Stace. It’s just—like you said, Noah’s a nice guy.” He shrugs even though Stacey can’t see him. 

“It’s been _one_ day.”

“I know.” He sits down hard on the edge of the bed, flopping backwards with another sigh. 

“I’m not suggesting you marry the guy.”

“What _are_ you suggesting?” Dan sits up. “Please tell me you didn’t just make up all of that feedback on my manuscript to _set me up with some guy_.”

Stacey scoffed. “I _showed_ you the excerpts at brunch. The research and rewrites are necessary but who says I can’t also have some fun? Who says _you_ can’t also have some fun?” 

Dan stays quiet for a moment. “So… what, am I just supposed to have a—a _fling_ with—with a bartender from _Mendocino_?”

“Don’t be such a snob—”

“No—I didn’t mean it like _that_. I just meant, like, what if… what if I’m an idiot and—like him too much?” Dan can’t believe he’s saying this after one day.

Stacey makes a soft noise. “Well you are an idiot.”

“Hey—!”

“I thought you said there was nothing there?” She asks quietly.

“It’s not—I mean hypothetically.”

“Okay. Well, hypothetically I don’t think you should let hypothetical worst-case scenarios keep you from having something you want.”

Dan frowned. 

Stacey is of course right, but obviously Dan is _not_ going to say that. 

“You get that from a self-help book?”

“I’ll take that as an ‘I know you’re right, Stacey but no way in hell will I ever admit that.’”

“Okay, great talk! Bye, Stace!” Dan faux enthuses before hanging up on her. He tosses his phone onto the bed next to him as he lays back down. He rubs his eyes under his glasses before taking them off. 

He lies there for a few moments, just breathing and trying not to think too hard about anything, before he remembers that he’s supposed to be getting ready. When he stands up, he notices two brightly colored pieces of paper on the dresser, and remembers getting the Harvest Fest schedule from Hannah. 

“S’mores!” He breathes, grabbing the yellow one to check the date. 

*

“Hey, can we go to the s’mores thing tonight?” Dan asks as he walks down the stairs, showered, styled, and _not_ dressed to impress anyone at all, thank you very much. He hikes his bag higher on his shoulder.

Noah stands as he answers. “How’d you know about that?”

“I _was_ doing research yesterday, you know.” Dan quirks an eyebrow at him. 

Noah holds his hands up. “Fair enough. So then you know that tonight is the opening night of Harvest Fest, which is bonfire night. So there’s a big cookout, which includes the s’mores competition. I was going to ask if you wanted—”

“Yes, I accept—” 

“—to eat dinner there…” Noah trails off and laughs, which—Dan might as well admit by now—makes his stomach swoop alarmingly. He grabs the end of the bannister to steady himself but props his other hand on his hip so it doesn’t look like he’s about to faint. 

“Thought you might.” Noah grins and grabs his keys. “I’ll take you to Terry’s, but I’ll warn you, it will probably be pretty busy. Not sure if you’ll be able to work—or if he’ll have space. Harvest Fest is our busiest time of year.”

“Oh, I thought you’d have called ahead and reserved a table for me,” Dan teases, then immediately wonders if he went too far. He certainly doesn’t want Noah to _stop_ reserving baked goods for him. Noah ducks his head, but Dan can see the blush that blooms across his cheeks and it sends all the air out of Dan’s lungs. 

“Ah—well—” Noah starts, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll have to remember that for tomorrow,” he finishes, but he’s smiling at Dan now, eyes wide and bright, and Dan tightens his grip on the railing. “Either way, you’re welcome to come to the bar if things don’t work out.”

“Aren't you having construction done?” 

Noah clicks his mouth shut, like he forgot he was having construction done. “Well... “ he says haltingly. “It’s just lighting, so it shouldn’t be too noisy. Plus there’s an office in the back you can use.” He turns abruptly and pulls open the front door. Dan doesn’t bother hiding his own grin as he follows Noah out to the car. 

The seat is still appropriately adjusted for Dan’s height from the day before, so Noah has no reason to lean close enough for Dan to smell his body wash. Dan puts his seatbelt on and doesn’t pout about it, but it’s a near thing. 

That is, until Noah reaches into the back again and grabs the blanket, settling it gently over Dan’s lap. “Just in case,” he murmurs, and then puts his own seatbelt on and starts the car. 

“Thank you, Noah,” Dan says as he arranges the blanket. “For the offer. I’m pretty committed to working around the smell of doughnuts, but if the crowd gets to be too much I’ll take you up on that.” 

“Did you get good information yesterday, at least? For your book?”

“I think I—yeah. I got good information. I’m not sure what it means for my book. I’m—” Dan took a deep breath. “I’m starting to rethink a lot more about the story than just the suggested rewrites from Stacey. Which—is technically _fine_ , but...I don’t know. We’ll see what happens—”

Noah pulls into a spot in front of the gallery next to the bakery. To Dan’s dismay, Noah was right—there’s even a line out the door. Dan makes a displeased noise.

“Well… a lot of people take their treats to go? Maybe there’s an open table? It’s worth checking out. You can text me if you find a seat.”

Dan smiles. “I don’t have your number.” 

Noah blinks. “I—I have yours?”

“Hm, and I wonder how that happened?” Dan says, silently cursing Stacey. “It didn’t occur to me to ask Stacey for your number because, as you know, I didn’t think we’d be meeting,” Dan teases. “Okay, text me so I have your number. I’m going to brave the masses.”

Noah puts his hand on Dan’s arm, his face adorably serious. “Good luck,” he says, giving Dan’s arm a squeeze. 

Dan grins. “Appreciate the support.” He grabs his bag and steps out of the car.

The line isn’t quite as long when Dan gets to the door, so he slips inside and scans the room for an open table. He’s out of the way, so he contemplates waiting for a table—how long could it take tourists to eat pastries?—but a couple near the back stand up to clear their garbage. 

Like a hawk, Dan swoops in as soon as they step away, setting his bag on one chair and sitting in the other. He unlocks his phone and opens Noah’s first text.

_Now you have me_. 🍩

What’s Dan supposed to do with _that?_

He’s flustered from the whole table stalking ordeal, and so he just shoots a quick text back to let Noah know he found a spot, and Noah immediately sends back a thumbs-up emoji. 

Dan wipes off the table with an antibacterial wipe from a travel pack he keeps in his laptop bag, and then pulls out his computer. Even though he’s annoyed with Stacey’s entire engineering of this situation, and despite her annoyingly honest conversation this morning, he decides against writing her yet another stern email with a lot of expletives, and instead pulls up his manuscript. 

He stares for a while, long enough for the morning rush to almost clear all the way out. Long enough for Terry to notice him in the back and walk over with a hot cup of coffee. 

“Cream and sugar, right?” He says as he sets the cup and saucer on the table. 

“Yes, Terry, thank you so much.”

“Anytime, Dan. How’s the book coming along?”

“Noah told you about the book, huh?”

“It’s a small town, so word gets around.”

Dan sighs. “It’s—well it _was_ finished, save a few sections I needed to edit for authenticity. Hence my trip. The research I’m here for—well it wasn’t supposed to change anything about the story, really. I don’t know—having second thoughts, I guess.” 

There must be something in the Mendocino water that makes Dan act all honest and vulnerable in front of strangers. 

“Nothing wrong with changing your mind,” Terry says. “There’s all those sayings about ‘life is what happens when you’re making plans,’ right?” 

Dan frowns at his laptop. 

Terry laughs lightly. “I just mean—Mendocino gets under your skin. I used to be a pastry chef in San Francisco. Came out here on a weekend visit to a friend of a friend’s rental, met Hattie at the diner and, well—here I am. Keep an open mind, Dan.”

He leaves Dan with a comforting smile, and Dan goes back to writing. 

*

Dan is jarred out of his writing trance when his stomach grumbles loudly. He’s had two cups of Terry’s coffee and one delicious danish, and now it’s time for a real meal. His phone buzzes on the table and he can’t stop his smile when he sees the text notification from Noah. 

_Hey, I’m so sorry, but things here are taking way longer than planned, and I can’t leave just yet to take you for pizza. But! Annie just brought over food from Hattie’s. Got you a milkshake._

Dan covers his mouth with his free hand, pressing his growing smile into his fingers. He texts back. 

_I’ll think about forgiving you. What flavor?_

_Strawberry or vanilla bean—I’ll let you pick._

_Be there in ten._

He closes his laptop and shoves it into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder before bringing his coffee cup up to the counter. “Thanks for everything today, Terry. What do I owe you?”

“Nope, you’re all good.”

“No, Terry, please,” Dan insists. “I’m going to leave money here anyway so you might as well just tell me how much it is.”

“You’re free to leave anything you like but your bill is taken care of.”

“Wait, you mean—someone’s already paid it? Or you’re not charging me?”

“Gotta get started on some doughnuts for the afternoon rush,” Terry says quickly, jerking his thumb in the direction of the kitchen. 

“What—”

“Come back after lunch if you have time, I’ll save you a few.” And then Terry’s back behind the curtain and Dan’s left standing with a bill dangling over the tip jar. He frowns and drops it in before putting his wallet away and turning to head up the street to Noah. 

Dan smells the diner food as soon as he swings open the door. Annie waves him over to the bar where there’s enough food for at least five people. “Hey!” she says, patting the chair next to her. “Noah’s in the back, he’ll be right out. I’ve been tasked with assisting you in the milkshake selection process.” She grabs two styrofoam cups with handwritten flavors scrawled on the sides and holds them up. 

Both of the flavors sound good to Dan, but he remembers Noah ordering a vanilla bean yesterday. 

“Strawberry sounds good.” He takes the cup from her hand and immediately takes a sip. 

It’s basically out of this world, which is no longer surprising, as Dan is starting to think there’s some kind of black magic situation going on at Hattie’s.

“Oh my god,” he says, eyes widening as Annie puts the other milkshake back on the bar. 

“Told you,” Dan hears Noah say from the doorway next to the bar. “Best milkshakes.”

“I never doubted you,” Dan says, hiding a smile by taking another sip. 

“I see Annie has assisted with the milkshake selection.”

“Expertly,” Dan says. Annie grins widely and pops a tater tot in her mouth. “What’s for lunch?”

Noah claps once. “Okay, well, we have two BLTs. A ton of fries and tater tots. Hattie had broccoli cheddar soup so we got one of those.” He points to a short paper cup. “Chicken Caesar salad—”

“—Mine!” Annie says, tugging the plastic container closer to her. 

“... Okay, nevermind.” Noah laughs. 

“We have a panini special here, too, not sure what kind—”

“—Mine!” Dan says.

Noah raises his eyebrow. 

“It’s Caprese, I can smell it,” Dan clarifies, pulling that container over to his seat and popping the lid. He sniffs it as daintily as possible and nods. “Yep. You mentioned fries?”

Annie pushes another container towards him and blinks twice at him, squeezing her eyes shut each time. Dan furrows his brow, but thanks her anyway. 

“Mmhmm, Hattie’s fries are the best.”

Dan takes a bite of one—perfect crispy outside and delicious tender potato inside. “I’m going to move into Hattie’s,” he declares as he pulls himself up onto a barstool. Noah laughs and takes the stool next to him, unwrapping his BLT. He takes a sip of his milkshake. 

“Oh, you picked the strawberry, huh?” He bumps his shoulder against Dan’s. 

Dan shrugs. “I can try vanilla bean tomorrow.” 

Noah holds out his cup and gives it a shake. “You can try mine.”

Dan leans in and takes a small sip from Noah’s straw. The milkshake is fine, but Noah’s eyes on him make Dan’s cheeks warm. “S’good,” Dan murmurs. 

Noah just looks at him for a moment, then goes back to his food and takes a bite of his sandwich. He makes a noise that Dan wants to hear him make _somewhere else_. “God, it’s just so _good_.”

“Every time you have a BLT you act like you’ve never had one before,” Annie says with a laugh, taking a bite of her salad. She dumps a pile of tots on top and stabs through potato, romaine, and chicken with her fork for her next bite. 

He makes a mental note of that brilliant modification, then turns his attention to his own meal. The bread is exceptionally crusty, and the mozzarella is melty, and the tomatoes look juicy and Dan takes a huge bite—too big, really—and tomato juice drips down his chin. He scrambles for a napkin, which Noah holds out for him. 

Dan flushes yet again and mumbles a thank you behind his napkin. Noah grins into his sandwich. 

The rest of lunch is uneventful, luckily, and Dan listens to Noah and Annie share an update on the progress of the bar. Dan didn’t think so much could have changed since yesterday, but he enjoys listening to them talk about their project. 

“So what’s, like, your projected opening date?"

Noah wipes his mouth and tosses his napkin into his now-empty wrapper. “I think we have about two months of work left? That’s accounting for the most common delays in construction projects, so could be sooner.”

“Oh—that’s soon!”

Noah scrubs his hand through his hair. “Yeah, it is,” he says through nervous laughter. “The to-do list is still long. But we’re basically on track.” 

“Is it just the two of you doing all this work?”

Noah sucks down more of his milkshake. “My buddy Jeff is a GC, so he’s helping us with hiring the subcontractors, and he’s been able to get us some really great rates on materials.”

Dan sips at the last of his own milkshake and nods. “So what’s going on this afternoon, Annie?” He asks. 

“Work on the bathrooms. And then next week hopefully we’ll reinstall the booths!” She claps excitedly. “They’re gorgeous.” 

_I can’t wait to see them_ , is what Dan wants to say, but the truth is he’s leaving the day after tomorrow. “I hope Noah sends me pictures,” is what he says out loud, and whatever excitement had been building as they’d talked about the bar fizzled out immediately.

“Oh—” Noah clears his throat. “That’s right, you’re heading back to LA on Sunday.”

Dan nods, picking up a floppy, reject french fry and taking a bite. He doesn’t have anything else to say, can’t say _anything_ that he’s thinking—about wishing he could stay longer, wishing he could stay _forever_. Noah seems bummed, but Dan doesn’t want to dwell on that right now. “Yeah I have a late flight Sunday evening,” he says and Annie starts clearing the empty containers, silently excusing herself. 

“Well,” Noah starts, nodding and setting his empty milkshake cup on the counter, “we better get started on the tour then, huh?”

Biting his lip, Dan nods. “Yeah. Don’t wanna… miss anything.” He looks down at the scraps of his lunch.

They finish clearing all of the food, Annie reassuring Dan that her roommates are coming by to pick up what's left and nothing will go to waste, and then Noah’s ushering Dan out the door with his hand hovering near Dan’s lower back. 

The tour is fantastic— _Noah_ is fantastic—but Dan is glad when they get back in the car to head to Noah’s house to rest for a little bit before the bonfire. Dan needs time to think. Away from Noah. Spending the entire afternoon touring an idyllic town with a very attractive guy has done weird things to Dan’s brain. Or maybe it was the milkshake. 

When Noah took him to the trailhead near the water, Dan had a wild thought that they could do this every weekend. He and Noah could take Red out to the trail—Red would love it—and then they could go to Terry’s and Dan would wait at an outdoor table with Red while Noah ran in to grab their standing order of doughnuts and coffee. 

Dan is startled out of his reverie when Noah throws the car into park. Dan blinks and lifts his head from where he’d laid it on the window. “You okay?” Noah asks, forehead creasing in concern. 

Dan nods. “I’m okay. Think I just need to lay down.” 

Noah frowns. “Want me to make you some tea?” He asks as they both get out of the car. Dan shakes his head as he shoulders his bag. 

“Thanks, I’m good,” Dan replies, even though his brain offers a cozy fireside caretaking scene that frankly scares the shit out of him. “I appreciate it.”

“Okay,” Noah says softly as he opens the front door. “Let me know if you need anything.” Noah touches his arm gently.

Dan smiles. “I will.”

*

Dan wakes to the creak of his door opening and someone whispering his name. He groans and blinks against the late afternoon sun streaming in the window. He forgot to close the curtains when he flopped face-first onto the bed and fell asleep almost immediately. 

“Dan?” Noah says again. 

Dan fumbles for his glasses on the nightstand and slips them on, rubbing his eyes beneath them as he sits up against the headboard. 

“Sorry—I didn’t want to wake you but we’ll want to leave for the bonfire soon.” 

Noah’s clearly freshened up—he’s wearing a dark henley with quite an open collar, dark jeans, and his hair looks wet, a few curls falling over his forehead. Dan clears his throat. “That’s—thank you, yes that’s fine. How long was I asleep?”

“I—I made you tea? It’s been about two hours.” Noah sets a big mug on the nightstand and Dan gets a whiff of his body wash. He manages to stay still and _not_ sway forward to plant his face into Noah’s neck. “Are you feeling better?”

Dan fidgets with his blankets over his lap and slides a hand through his hair—which is probably a mess, oh god. “Yeah, thanks, Noah. You’re—that’s very nice of you.”

“Sure,” Noah says cheerfully. “We should probably head out in about thirty minutes? That okay?”

Dan nods. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Noah smiles and Dan watches him close the door quietly behind him. He rubs his hands over his face again, and reaches for his tea. He takes a careful sip and rolls his eyes. 

It’s perfect. 

*

After a brief but reassuring text convo with Stacey, and a quick shower mainly to help fix his hair, Dan is dressed in the nicest sweater he brought. It’s fitted enough that he didn’t really intend on wearing it on this trip, but he brought it anyway just in case. He spent ten minutes deciding between his Good Jeans and his Nice Pants, and only managed to decide by texting Stacey.

_Please help me and don’t ask questions. My good jeans or my Prada pants?_

_Wear whatever you’re wearing right now, it’s a bonfire and Noah doesn’t care about your pants._

_Thanks._ ❤️

Good Jeans it is. 

He’s walking downstairs only a few minutes late, and Noah is by the front door putting his shoes on. Noah looks up at him, and his face splits into a wide smile. “Hey, Dan,” he breathes, and Dan hurries down the last few steps lest he start to feel like Rachel Leigh Cook on prom night in _She’s All That._ Noah’s curls are much cuter than Freddie Prinze Jr’s late 90s hair though.

When Noah stands, Dan has a brief moment of panic because it looks like Noah is about to take Dan into his arms and kiss him. Noah’s hand is vaguely extended in Dan’s direction, but he ends up shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Hi,” he says again, and Dan grins, lets himself hope that Noah might be a little nervous too. 

“Hi,” Dan replies. “Ready to go?” 

Noah nods and clears his throat. “You look great, Dan,” he murmurs, and they’re standing close enough for Noah’s soft voice to make warmth coil low in Dan’s stomach. Dan tugs at the bottom of his sweater, adjusting the hemline, something to do with his hands, before he settles them on his hips and catches Noah’s eye again. He’s feeling less anxious, now that he’s right in front of Noah. 

Noah’s blushing, his pink cheeks nearly glowing in the low light of the setting sun. Dan bites his lip around a smile, feeling his own cheeks warm. They stand there, smiling at each other, until a car door slams somewhere outside and startles them both into nervous stammering.

“We should—” Noah starts.

“I’ll just—” Dan points to his shoes. 

They both laugh, and Dan tries not to dwell on the thought that this feels like more than just a trip to a bonfire to research small-town community events for his book that’s turning into a _romance_. 

It’s a longer drive than he expects, and it’s to a part of town Dan hasn’t been before, even on the tour this afternoon. He’s about to spend the rest of the car ride contemplating if Noah is a serial killer driving him to a deserted field for a ritualistic murder, but Noah turns up the volume on the radio and proceeds to drum his fingers on the steering wheel. He’s adorable and Dan watches him jam to The Eagles until the bonfire is in sight. 

Parking’s a nightmare, but Dan lives in LA where _everything_ is a nightmare, so Dan doesn’t mind traipsing through a completely separate empty field to get to their intended empty field with a fire. 

He thinks about the s’mores and not about the way Noah’s hand has brushed against his twice now, and how easy it would be to just reach out and catch it. 

Noah’s phone buzzes and he fishes it out of his pocket. “It’s Annie,” he says, then answers. Their conversation is short, and Dan can smell grilled food as they approach the entrance tent of the bonfire. There’s a huge sign announcing the opening night of Harvest Fest, and a smaller sign with a list of events. Noah pulls two bright orange wristbands out of his pocket.

“Annie says the s’mores options are mind-blowing,” Noah says with a smirk as they come to a stop a few feet away from the entrance. He holds up the wristbands and then slips his fingers around Dan’s left wrist, picking it up so Dan’s holding it out for him, and gently pushing up the cuff of his sweater. He pulls off the adhesive on one end of the band, and then wraps it loosely around Dan’s wrist. His knuckles brush over Dan’s pulse point and he almost jerks his hand away, feels like he’s been shocked. 

“Can’t wait,” Dan responds faintly, remembering that Noah had spoken. Noah huffs out a quiet laugh and then attempts to put his own wristband on. 

Dan carefully plucks the paper from his fingers and wraps it around Noah’s wrist. “There,” he says, giving Noah’s hand a squeeze before dropping his own to his side. 

“Thanks,” Noah says, and Dan _swears_ that Noah’s eyes flick down to his mouth. Before Dan can do anything—like run away or press their lips together—Annie comes bounding through the entrance. 

“Dan, oh my _god_! I saved you the last candied bacon s’more, these things are going like hotcakes, come on.” She hands Dan a small plate and takes his other hand and starts pulling.

He can hear Noah’s laughter as Annie drags him to a series of tables with stations of s’mores flavors. “This is more than I ever dreamed,” he says, overly reverently, only half-joking as Annie hands him a narrow sheet of paper with a list of all the s’mores on offer. “Okay, wait. I have to—” Dan cuts himself off by taking a huge bite of the candied bacon s’more on his plate. “Oh my god,” he says with his mouth full. 

“Here,” Annie says, pulling a napkin out of her purse and swapping it for the list she’d just given him. 

“Thanks, wow, you’re fully prepared, huh?”

“Learned some valuable lessons at the hot wings cook-off in the spring.” 

“Okay, walk me through this,” he says before eating the rest of his s’more. 

“Okay, you’ll wanna start with the savory options first—that’s why I got you the bacon—and then move on to the sweeter ones.”

“Should we eat, like—real food first?”

Annie shakes her head vigorously, eyes wide. “No, definitely not. Noah is on barbecue duty, he’ll bring us food. Our chairs are over by the fire, we picked up yours earlier to get a good spot.” She points vaguely towards the bonfire over to the right.

Dan drifts towards the s’mores topped with potato chips. “You guys have this all figured out huh?” 

She nods and grabs another treat. “How are we going to carry 15 s’mores each?” Dan asks, but still picks up a Mexican chocolate s’more. 

“Not all of them are worth trying, let’s say you get five and I’ll get five and then we’ll split them at our chairs.”

Dan blinks. “Oh, okay,” he agrees. It’s a good plan. “Do we… have to share these with Noah?” He asks. 

Annie grabs a pretzel s’more and raises an eyebrow. “If you want to share _your_ half with Noah feel free.” Dan laughs and puts a salted caramel s’more on his plate. 

Dan gets butterflies when he thinks about sharing his s’mores with Noah. “Fair enough,” he says.

They end up with five each—they pass on the coconut s’more and the rice krispie treat s’more, which is a monstrosity—before weaving through the crowd to find their chairs. 

Noah is already there when they arrive, along with two other guys. He’s laughing, head thrown back, and it makes Dan smile too. He glances over at Annie, who has a playful look in her eyes, and Dan does _not_ appreciate it at all. “What?” he asks, still smiling, because he just can’t stop. 

Annie just presses her lips together to ineffectively hide a smile and shakes her head briefly, her hair fluttering over her shoulders. She moves forward and sits in the empty chair between the two guys Dan doesn’t know, leaving an open seat next to Noah. 

Dan deposits his plate onto the table and sits gingerly in his folding chair. He takes a deep breath, all of a sudden he feels like he needs to calm himself, and the woody smell of the fire makes him flutter his eyes closed. 

Noah speaks up, introduces Dan to his friends, who all seem nice enough, and then Noah is handing Dan a plate of food, and Dan wants to lean forward and kiss him. Noah starts talking, though, and Dan shoves that thought from his mind as Noah takes him on a tour of his plate. 

Dan’s halfway through his pulled pork slider when Noah drops a travel tumbler of wine into the cup holder attached to his chair with a wink. “Thanks,” Dan says, grinning. He takes a sip, which is weird with the slider, but it’s good wine and Dan appreciates the gesture. 

Noah’s friends are telling a story that Noah clearly finds embarrassing, one involving a wedding they had all attended together. Dan is charmed, regardless, and doesn’t so much listen to the story as he does watch Noah cover his eyes and then take a long sip of beer, and then lean back and shake his head in exasperation. 

They’re close to the fire—not too close, of course—but Noah looks gorgeous in the light, and the wine is muffling Dan’s knee-jerk suppression response to all of his _feelings_. He takes another sip of wine, just to keep that going, and he nudges his shoulder against Noah’s. 

“Hey,” Noah says, shifting in his chair to face more towards Dan. “How’s the food?”

Dan looks down at his near-empty plate. “Amazing, Noah. I’m ready for the rest of the s’mores now, I think.” He takes another sip of wine and puts his plate on the table. Annie has already split and redistributed their s’mores on separate plates, and when he looks over to her she gives him a few fluttery blinks and a knowing look he decides to ignore. 

“I’ll let you have three—two!—I’ll let you have two,” he says, holding up the plate. 

“I think we can split the ones I want to try.” He winks again, and he’s really going to have to stop doing that. 

“Okay,” Dan agrees, and watches Noah attempt to break apart a s’more made with Kit Kats instead of slab chocolate. It goes about as well as expected, and Noah ends up eating most of his half off his fingers, which makes Dan choke on _his_ half. 

He chugs down some wine and waves off Noah’s offer to pound on his back, coughing harshly into his fist. _I’ve never been more attractive_ , he thinks, grabbing the Oreo s’more and giving Noah none of it. 

Noah looks offended, but grins anyway and, with one already under his belt, he splits the Nutella s’more more expertly than the previous. He lifts one hand in Dan’s direction, and Dan thinks for a split-second that Noah is about to feed it to him, but Noah just holds the piece out to him, and he takes it, their fingers brushing more than necessary. 

Dan moans while he chews, and when he flutters his eyes open, Noah’s staring at him with his half of the dessert poised in front of his mouth. Dan looks around the circle without moving his head, sees that no one else is paying attention to them. The guys and Annie are embroiled in what looks like an intense debate, with pointed hand gestures and flinging arms. 

“What?” Dan asks as he turns his attention back to Noah. 

Noah doesn’t answer, just eats his s’more, chews with his eyes locked on Dan’s. The heat from the bonfire is warm, but he’s sure the swirl of heat in his stomach is from Noah’s gaze. 

“What’s your favorite?” Noah says.

_You’re my favorite,_ Dan thinks. “What?” He says out loud.

“The s’mores. You have to submit your ballot if you want to vote in the contest.”

Dan blinks. “The contest?” He feels like he can’t catch up. Maybe it’s the wine. 

Noah tugs a list out from under a plate on the table. He mimes asking for a pen across the circle, and Annie throws one at him. He catches it easily and positions his phone underneath the paper. Dan pulls his own phone out to use his flashlight. 

“You can only vote for three flavors. So, my method for this kind of thing is usually to rate the ones you tried, like a 1-5, and then we can kind of see the spread of choices.”

Dan arches a brow. “Oh really.”

“Oh did you have a better plan?” Noah asks, not sarcastically. 

Dan shakes his head. “Not a plan, per se. I know what three flavors I want to vote for.”

“Oh!” Noah grins. “Decisive.”

“Mm, yes well, I take tasting very seriously. And I know what I like.”

“I can tell.”

Dan fishes his own list out of his pocket and writes down his three choices. 

“You gonna tell me your top three?” Noah asks. “No wait—let me guess.”

Dan drinks more wine and gestures for Noah to go on. 

“Okay, candied bacon.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Salted caramel.”

Dan nods, and pulls his head back, he’s a little surprised. And pathetically pleased that Noah somehow knows him enough for this. 

“Oh—how could I forget. Nutella. You enjoyed that one a lot.” The corner of Noah’s mouth quirks up slightly. 

Dan’s face is already flushed from the bonfire and the wine and now he’s remembering the noises he made when he ate the Nutella s’more. He lays his hand against his cheek. “I did,” he says and wishes he could just _stop talking_.

“I can take you to the s’mores tent to submit your list?” Noah says, standing and extending his hand.

Dan can obviously stand up by himself, but he stares at Noah’s hand, and hears Stacey’s annoying voice in his head telling him to just take what he wants. He bites his lip and slides his fingers over Noah’s palm, letting Noah pull him up. They’re standing close together, and it would be easy— _so_ easy—to lean in and press his lips to Noah’s. He even thinks Noah might _want_ him to. Might want to pull him close and not let him go. 

As it is, Dan waits too long daydreaming about it and a bunch of kids with firecrackers nearby make them both jump apart. Dan’s foot catches on the leg of his chair and he sways backwards, but Noah grabs his biceps and pulls him upright. “Whoa. Too much wine?” Noah says, but he’s teasing, and he’s rubbing lightly at Dan’s arms. 

“I’m good.” Dan’s definitely not good.

Noah trails his palm down Dan’s arm and fits their hands together again. He waits a beat, which Dan thinks is so he can object if he wants. But he just smiles and— _god—_ Noah smiles back and tugs him out of their little circle.

They walk to the s’mores tent hand in hand, and even though of course people are doing their own thing, Dan feels like everyone in town is looking at them. 

Terry's in charge of the s’mores competition, of course, and he’s in the booth when they approach. Dan drops his voting slip into the box and gives Terry a grin. “Hey, since I have you both here,” Dan starts, letting go of Noah’s hand to gesture. “There’s something fishy going on here with my ‘tab’ at the bakery."

Terry glances at Noah with a slightly panicked look. 

“Uh, yeah, well—” Noah starts, but Hattie comes over with something apparently urgent, and when Noah breathes out a sigh of relief, Dan decides he doesn’t want the bakery tab resolved at all. He slips his hand back into Noah’s and pulls him away from the tent so the last few people can get their votes in. 

“When does the winner get announced?” Dan asks. Noah brushes what Dan thinks is an invisible piece of lint from Dan’s shoulder. 

“Tomorrow night.”

“Are we going?” Dan asks, and then immediately wants to take it back. He’s not trying to sound needy. Or clingy. Maybe he should let go of Noah’s hand. 

But then Noah’s face practically lights up and he squeezes Dan’s hand. “If you want to, yeah we can go. They’ll have apple cider donuts.”

Dan laughs. “Okay, you don’t have to lure me to everything with food. But yes—I will be eating those, thank you.”

“Mmhmm.” Noah nods, smirking.

There’s a hissing sound from the fire, and Dan turns to watch several locals extinguish the flames. People are starting to pack up and Noah leads him back over to their section where his friends are packing up their chairs and breaking down the table. 

Noah plucks Dan’s wine tumbler out of his cup holder and hands it to him, and grabs his own beer bottle from his chair. “We’ll probably need these for the walk back to the car.”

“The chairs?” Dan asks.

“They’ll take ‘em and bring them back tomorrow for us.”

“That’s nice of them.”

Before Noah can respond, Annie nudges her way between them. “We have to say goodbye!” She insists, sounding very urgent.

Dan laughs and hugs her goodbye, and she sways so far into him that she almost takes them both down. She mumbles her drunken apology, and Dan is momentarily concerned about how she’s getting home until one of Noah’s friends grabs her hand. She beams at Dan and then lays a loud kiss on his cheek before stumbling off.

“Is she—?”

“She’ll be okay. That’s her roommate and standing ride home.”

Dan rubs at his cheek and nods. “Okay.”

“Let’s go.”

They walk hand-in-hand again, down the now mostly-empty streets to Noah’s car, and Dan starts to get nervous. Will Noah try to kiss him? At the car? On his front stoop?

Worse, what if Noah _doesn’t_ kiss him?

Noah’s Volvo doesn’t have power locks, so when they get to the car Noah stops next to the passenger side door to use his key to unlock it. Dan puts a hand on Noah’s wrist to stop him and Noah turns to him with a questioning look. 

“Um,” Dan says, then shakes his head, deciding against attempting to string together a sentence. He pinches the fabric on the front of Noah’s shirt between his thumb and forefinger, pulling him closer. Noah drops his keys and shuffles his feet, moving in until they’re standing toe-to-toe. 

Noah parts his lips, maybe to speak, but Dan’s already leaning forward, and then they’re kissing. Dan clutches at the front of Noah’s t-shirt as Noah slides his arms around Dan’s waist. 

Dan turns them to press Noah against the door of the car, sliding one hand up to cup the back of Noah’s neck. He feels the heat, the pressure of Noah’s hands sliding under the hem of his sweater, resting at the small of his back. 

His breathing is shaky as he exhales when Noah drags his lips across Dan’s stubbled cheek. “This—” Noah starts, then clears his throat. “Is this the wine…?” He asks, pulling back slightly. His eyes, open and earnest, roam over Dan’s face for the answer.

Dan leans in again and nuzzles his cheek against Noah’s. When he speaks, his lips brush against Noah’s ear. “Noah…” He breathes. “It’s you.”

Noah kisses him this time, and heat surges up Dan’s spine. Noah’s a _good_ kisser and Dan clutches at his shoulders to stay upright. Noah slides his hands a little higher on Dan’s back, spreading his fingers wide, digging his nails lightly into Dan’s skin. Dan moves his hands into Noah’s hair, gives it a little tug to tilt Noah’s head, lays biting kisses along his jaw, starts to suck a mark into the thin skin at the base of Noah’s throat. 

Dan whimpers quietly when Noah scratches a hand down his back, over his ass to pull their hips closer together. “Dan,” Noah gasps at a particularly hard bite. “I—”

A car horn startles them apart, but just far enough to look over at the noise. Dan shields his eyes against the car’s headlights, and squints until it passes enough for them to see inside. 

It’s Terry with a shit-eating grin on his face, Hattie in the passenger seat giving them a way-too-enthusiastic thumbs up. 

“Oh my god,” Dan says, burying his face in the curve of Noah’s shoulder. Noah rests his hand at the nape of Dan’s neck, petting him like a spooked horse and it’s kind of working. Luckily, Terry doesn’t stop to chat, but Dan feels Noah wave with his other arm, and then he starts laughing, the sound reverberating against Dan’s face where he’s pressed to Noah’s body.

“Oh god,” he says, giggling. “We are—that’s as good as a front-page story, Dan.”

Dan lifts his head. “What?”

“It’s just—” Noah bites his lip, but is clearly still trying not to laugh. “Hattie runs the diner and Terry runs the bakery—those are the places people go on Saturday mornings. It’s gonna be—sorry for the cliche—but it’ll be the talk of the town.” As he’s talking, his face turns more and more apologetic, to the point of looking downright _regretful_. 

“Is that—is that bad? Do you—do we have to pretend we didn’t—well—”

“—pretend that you didn’t get so worked up about s’mores that you had to kiss me in the middle of a field?”

Dan scoffs. “I was just _asking_ because you looked like you wanted to—to take it back.”

Noah shakes his head. “No. No take-backs, Dan.” 

Dan smiles and leans in for another kiss, just because, and Noah accepts, pulling him close again, so their bodies are flush together. “Mm,” Noah hums after several more minutes. “We should go ho—back to the house. It’s late.” 

While Dan definitely does not want to stop, he does agree that it’s late and he’s pretty tired. So he nods and kisses Noah quickly. “Okay.”

Noah grabs his keys from where he’d dropped them and opens Dan’s door for him. Dan grabs the blanket this time, and tucks himself in as Noah walks around the car to unlock and get in the driver’s side. Noah grins and huffs out a laugh when he sees Dan’s set up, but he doesn’t comment—he just starts the car and navigates them back to Noah’s house. 

*

They do a weird dance as they take off their shoes in the foyer, too much touching to successfully complete their tasks, but not enough for Dan’s liking. Dan ends up with his back against the front door and one shoe still on as Noah kisses him quite thoroughly. 

Noah leans back, slowly, leaving time to press a few more kisses to Dan’s swollen lips. Dan smiles, blinking his eyes open slowly. “We should—” Noah swallows roughly. “Go to bed.”

Dan bobs his brows once.

“Not—!”

Dan thunks his head back against the door, giggling, squeezing at Noah’s shoulders while Noah tips his head forward and rests his head against Dan’s chest. “That’s not what I meant,” he says, voice muffled. 

“You don’t think we should go to bed?” Dan teases.

“Stop.”

Dan slides his hands up Noah’s neck, urging him to look up. He takes in Noah’s flushed cheeks and wide pupils and plants another kiss on his mouth. “I still have a shoe on.”

Noah shuffles back and takes a deep breath. “Okay.” He licks his lips, eyes on Dan’s mouth. “Okay,” he says again. Dan lays a hand on Noah’s chest and nudges him back a little more just as Noah lets out a jaw-cracking yawn, sending them both into fits of laughter. 

Dan manages to get his other shoe off, and he lets Noah take his hand and pull him up the stairs. He’s _not_ getting into Noah’s bed tonight, so his mind is racing with what he can say. Noah stops them outside Dan’s door though, so Dan doesn’t have to think of anything. 

Noah kisses him softly in the doorway, leaving him with a quiet, “Good night, Dan,” before padding off to his own room, and clicking the door shut. 

Dan stands, leaning against the door jamb staring down the hallway for a few moments. He hears Noah’s toilet flush, and that propels him into his room. He shuts the door and pulls his phone from his pocket. He taps his conversation with Stacey, types out a short message and hits send. 

_We kissed._

He does an abridged version of his skincare after he changes and settles into bed. He plugs in his phone and flicks off the lamp, tucking his arm up under his pillow. He sighs deeply, hopes he dreams about Noah, and drifts off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Lots of s'mores options [here](https://www.google.com/url?q=https://sharedappetite.com/recipes/15-creative-smores-recipes/&sa=D&ust=1600181262385000&usg=AFQjCNG172u8YT3eta6E3iD2GPSJn5bqvA).  
> -Forgot to credit popfly for the name of Noah's wifi, Bandwidth on the Run.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot express how pleased I am that everyone's response to the last chapter was essentially "eeeep they KISSED." Thank you for all the love...

Dan wakes up thinking about Noah. It makes sense, since he dreamed about him, too.

Well, actually he dreamed about a marshmallow dressed as a hockey player skating directly at him before the dream changed to him and Noah on a picnic doing very non-picnic activities. 

Dan smiles to himself, and then covers his mouth to hide it from the furniture in the room, lest it get back to Noah or—god forbid—Stacey that he cant stop smiling about a little one-time kiss.

Okay, it was two times—maybe… a lot more—but it was one night and there was wine and Noah was so fucking gorgeous and charming and—

In any case, it was one time. Noah has big plans here in town and Dan lives 500 miles away. It’s not like—not like it’s anything to write home about.

His phone buzzes on the nightstand and he fumbles his glasses on and grabs it, noticing that he slept in a bit and swiping open a text message from Stacey. He nearly facepalms because past-Dan had gone and told Stacey about the kiss.

_About time._

_It’s been two days._

_Two long days full of pining._

_Okay, I never said pining._

_You’re not the only person I talk to in Mendocino._

Dan’s fingers are flying before he can think about whether or not he wants to know the answer. 

_Has Noah said something about me?  
_ _NEVERMIND._

_Ok._

_I hate you._

_Have fun at Harvest Fest._

Dan drops his phone next to him on the bed and blows out a big breath, puffing out his cheeks. 

There’s a light, almost timid knock on his door, and he hears Noah’s rough voice float in. “Dan,” he calls, like he’s trying to be quiet. “You awake?”

Dan considers pretending to be asleep, just because he hasn’t done his hair and he’s wearing _pajamas_ again, but the wave of desire to see _Noah_ —all sleep-rumbled and bleary-eyed—beats out his uncertainty. 

“Come in,” he calls back, and sits up against the headboard, pointlessly arranging the blankets. 

Noah swings the door open, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. “Mornin’,” he says, grinning and rubbing the stubble along his jaw. He’s wearing gray sweats and a white t-shirt, and Dan doesn’t invite him to crawl into bed, but he wants to.

“Hi.” Dan grins back. 

“Hi,” Noah says again and then laughs at himself. “You want coffee?”

“Always,” he says. Noah’s grin softens into a fond look, and Dan lets the potential implication hang in the air, even though he probably shouldn’t. 

“Meet you in the kitchen?” Noah says. 

Dan nods and Noah taps his knuckles on the door frame twice before turning to head down the stairs. 

Noah’s leaning back with his hands on the island staring out the window over the kitchen sink. He turns to look at Dan when he enters, and Dan wants to go to him, wants to sidle up and slip his arms around Noah’s shoulders and kiss in the morning light. 

He doesn’t. He just gives Noah a little wave and goes to the fridge to grab the cream. 

Noah, though… Noah meets him at the fridge, crowding him against it when he pushes the door closed. He settles one hand on Dan’s hip and uses the other to drag his fingers up the exposed line of Dan’s forearm, over the inside of his elbow, up his bicep under the sleeve of his t-shirt. 

Dan has goosebumps all over, now, and Noah squeezes his hip, sliding cool fingertips under the hem of his shirt, making Dan shiver in the open kitchen. 

“Hi,” Dan says—god does he even _know_ any other words—and clutches the container of creamer to his chest. 

Noah just smiles up at him, keeps leaning in until Dan has to shut his eyes because he’s so close. 

“Hey,” Noah whispers back, a minty exhale over Dan’s cheek, before kissing him, a soft press of lips that has Dan leaning heavily on the fridge to keep from sliding right to the floor. 

When Noah looks like he’s going to come back for more, Dan pushes the creamer against Noah’s chest. “Wait, I—“

“Yeah?” Noah looks adorably concerned. 

“It’s just—“ Dan can’t think with Noah this close, so he carefully extricates himself from Noah’s embrace and walks a few steps to the island. “I’m—well today’s basically my last full day here.” He sets the cream down on the counter. 

“...Yes…” Noah agrees but still looks confused. 

“I don’t—I just mean I don’t want you to think—I don’t want to mislead you, is all.”

Noah rubs his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Okay.” He nods, and Dan gets the feeling there might be a speech coming. “Well, I _do_ know that and I’m not—this isn’t me trying to convince you to—to stay. I just really—” Noah shrugs “—like you.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

“I mean—I can stop, if you want, of course Dan—we don’t have to—”

“No. No, don’t—I mean… you can keep… doing that. _We_ can keep doing that.”

Noah smirks. “That.”

Dan flushes and pads over to the coffee pot to distract himself. “Mmhmm, yes. That.”

Noah laughs and Dan tucks his smile into his cheek. “Eggs and toast sound good for breakfast?”

“You don’t have to keep cooking for me,” Dan says, bringing his mug back to the island for cream and sugar.

“I need to eat too, you know.”

Dan blows lightly on his coffee as an attempt to control his smile. “Fair enough.” 

“Does that mean you _don’t_ want me to make you eggs and toast?”

Dan just sips his coffee, trying to be coy, but also slightly worried he’ll _beg_ Noah to make him breakfast every day forever or something else equally ridiculous, even though he just finished his “I’m leaving” speech. 

“I’ll take that as a ‘Yes, Noah, I love when you make me breakfast,’” Noah mocks, adopting an affect that Dan thinks is meant to be him.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“You kinda do.” Noah pulls a carton of eggs out of the fridge.

Dan does help, minimally, shredding cheese and buttering toast and grabbing plates and utensils. The whole scene is almost unbearably domestic, and Dan doesn’t even need to ask where the serving bowls are for the fruit Noah asks him to set out. 

He slurps down the last of his coffee as Noah sets their plates down at the kitchen table. Dan brings the carafe over, too, and takes his seat. “Thanks,” he murmurs, pouring more coffee for them both. 

“You’re welcome, Dan,” Noah answers, nudging his foot under the table. “I don’t have people working on the bar on weekends,” Noah continues, “so I’m technically off. And since today is the first full day of Harvest Fest, I thought I would take you over to the field to check it out? Get some of Terry’s apple cider doughnuts?” Noah takes a bite of his eggs. 

“Noah,” Dan starts, shaking his head with a smile. “If you—I mean—if you have time off, wouldn’t you rather do, I don’t know… anything else?”

Noah grins and shrugs. “No.”

“Oh. Okay. Then yes, of course, I’d love to go to Harvest Fest. With you.” The look in Noah’s eyes makes Dan shiver, and he feels like he just accepted an invitation to prom.

“Are you cold? I have a sweatshirt in the living room, I think.”

Before Dan can answer, Noah is pushing out of his chair and heading into the living room. Dan takes a deep breath and shovels a forkful of eggs into his mouth. 

When Noah returns, he holds out a dark gray zip-up hoodie, open so Dan can slip his arm through one of the sleeves. Noah helps him with the other sleeve, and it’s way more intimate than scrambled eggs and toast should be. He whispers his thanks again, and Noah sits back down. 

Dan tugs the hoodie close, adjusting the material around his shoulders, and when he looks up, Noah’s cheeks are slightly pink. 

“When did you start writing?” Noah asks after they finish eating and they’re on the last of the coffee.

Dan huffs out a laugh. “According to my parents—birth.”

Noah grins. “Little Dan with his pencil and notebook, huh?”

“Apparently. I don’t remember all that, but it really hit me when I was in high school.”

“Yeah? What happened?”

Dan clears his throat and takes another sip of coffee. “I had… an English teacher who encouraged me. She—high school was… I was in the closet and things were—well anyway, I submitted a long-form poem in lieu of an essay—”

Noah lets out a snort of laughter and then immediately claps a hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Dan grins. “Mm. _Anyway_ , it was partly because I hadn’t read the book, and partly because my brain has a hard time following the rules—”

“Shocker,” Noah mumbles into his own mug.

Dan flicks a blueberry at him, which he catches and eats. “She told me… that there was something… special in my writing and that I should think about pursuing it. And—at the time I was just… _desperate_ for something to focus on, and having someone tell me I was special in—in a _good_ way was—you know?” Dan shrugs. “And so here I am.”

Noah shoots him a small smile. “Here you are.” 

Dan looks down at his plate and then up at Noah. 

“You wanna go to the bookstore?” Noah asks apropos of nothing after several moments of silence. 

“The bookstore?”

“Yeah. I haven’t taken you there yet.”

Dan gives him a smile, thinking about all the places Noah could take him if things were a little different. “Okay,” Dan agrees. He’s going to make the most of the next 24 hours. 

“Good.” Noah nods. “I’ll clean—”

“Nope. I’ll clean. I should earn my keep.” Dan stands to start gathering plates. 

“You don’t—“

“ _Noah_.”

Noah bites his bottom lip and holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll go shower. Meet you down here in an hour? We can go to the bookstore and then the festival afterwards.”

Dan nods, popping a few berries into his mouth as he condenses their dishes. Noah doesn’t leave, though, and Dan looks at him expectantly. “Is there something else?”

Noah shakes his head _no_ , but it’s not very convincing. Before Dan can ask again, Noah’s walking out of the kitchen and trotting up the stairs. Dan frowns at the doorway for a few moments. 

“Weirdo,” he mutters to himself, but he smiles as he loads the dishwasher. 

*

Dan convinces Noah that he can drive to the bookstore, since he has a rental with heat that turns on right away. And is a grown up with a driver’s license. 

“I know you’ll miss tucking me in with the blanket,” Dan teases, and Noah blushes brilliantly as he pulls the front door shut behind him. 

“Just drive,” he mumbles, ducking his head and walking quickly around the car.

Noah navigates Dan to the bookstore, two blocks over from the bakery nestled between a jewelry store and a chocolatier that has Dan pausing for several moments on the sidewalk. “Okay,” Noah says, nudging him along with a hand low on his back. “We can stop in after the bookstore. I promised the owner I’d bring you by, so this is really a trip for me, not you.” Noah throws him half a wink before urging him through the door. 

“Oh, I see, I’m just a prop. And here I thought you were _taking_ me places,” Dan huffs. There’s no one at the front counter, but there’s a sign that says, “Please ring the bell, really it’s okay!”

“I’ll take you anywhere you want, Dan,” Noah says, voice low in Dan’s ear. 

Dan clears his throat loudly and elbows Noah in the ribs. “Okay, we’re in _public_.”

Noah blinks not-so-innocently. “Was that not appropriate in public?”

Dan narrows his eyes and reaches out to forcefully tap the bell on the counter. A voice from the back of the store calls out, “Be right with you! Feel free to browse!”

“It’s just me, Rizwan!” Noah calls back. “Take your time.”

Loathe to leave Noah’s side but intrigued by the cataloging system here, Dan wanders over to a section of books beside a blue placard that says “So You Love A Bad Boy.” It looks like a bunch of romance novels, and Dan runs his fingers over the paperback spines. He slides one off the shelf and thumbs through the pages, reads through a salacious, if lackluster, passage then snaps the book shut. 

Another sign says “Erotic Military Sci-Fi with Strong Alien Characters.” Dan blinks several times, and notes single copies of two books in the section. And that’s it. He bites his lip, looking around. Noah’s still up at the front reading the back of a book that was by the register. He grabs _Duty to the King_ , sees that it’s an m/m romance, wonders briefly what that _duty_ might entail, and then decides he doesn’t exactly want to know. He does take a quick pic of the cover, though, in case he… changes his mind.

A door in the back of the store opens and shuts, and Dan makes his way back over to Noah at the counter. “Noah, it is so good to see you!” A man’s voice says as it grows nearer. 

“Rizwan, my man,” Noah says, wrapping the man up in a hug.

“How have you been? How is the bar coming along?”

Dan smiles at Rizwan’s enthusiasm. “Ah, yeah things are going great,” Noah says, ducking his head bashfully and rubbing the back of his neck. Dan crosses his arms, snuggling into his sweater, marveling at how cute one person can be. Noah turns towards him. “This is Dan Levy.” 

“Yes! Dan, it is _so_ nice to meet you, I loved your first two books.” Dan holds his hand out and Rizwan takes it in both of his. 

“Dan, this is Rizwan.”

“Rizwan, great to meet you.” Rizwan let’s go of Dan’s hand. “Thanks so much.”

“Oh, this is so exciting! We hardly get any published authors here.”

“Hey I, uh, I like your, uh—the categories you’ve got here.”

“Yes, that is my most popular feature! Several women from the book club have written less than complimentary comment cards, though, so I have reserved a section in the back for more, shall we say, traditional sorting.” He gestures to an aisle and Dan leans over to peek down. 

There’s a huge, tacky sign, white with red letters, that says “Most Popular Fiction A-Z.” 

Dan laughs loudly, then covers his mouth to stifle it for a moment. “That’s,” he’s still giggling, “that’s effective, Rizwan.”

“Thank you, Dan, I agree.”

Noah nudges Dan’s shoulder. “Anyway, Dan’s in town doing a bit of research for his next book.”

Rizwan lights up. “Oh, how thrilling! Our town!”

“Yes, hopefully you’ll have room in your “Big City/Small Town Seasonal Romance Stories” section for it?” Noah tenses next to Dan and pulls out his phone. 

Rizwan laughs. “Yes! I’ll make a place right up front for it.”

“Yes, perfect, right in the front, sounds great.” Dan pats the front counter. Rizwan walks behind the counter.

“Dan would you mind signing my copy of your first book? I have a pen somewhere here,” he says, pulling out a drawer and rummaging through it.

Noah looks like he’s about to protest, but Dan steps forward. “Happy to, Rizwan,” Dan says, and he means it. Book signings are exhausting, but Dan does enjoy chatting with folks who’ve enjoyed his work. 

Riswan pops his head up from where he was peering into a drawer. “Found one!” He hands the book and the pen to Dan, and he writes a nice message, a little more personal than his standard. 

Noah is saying goodbye as Dan hands the book back, and Dan echoes his sentiment. “It was so nice to meet you, Rizwan. Will you be at the festival tonight?”

“Oh, yes, I’ll be stopping by for a bit.”

They say goodbye to Rizwan, and Dan intends to make a beeline for the chocolate store, but Noah grabs his elbow and turns him around. There’s no one else on the sidewalk nearby, which is apparently private enough for Noah. 

“Is that what the book is about? About us?” 

Dan looks at Noah. “I’m not… sure.”

“You’re not sure?” Noah sounds upset but Dan has no idea why.

“Didn’t I tell you that I found my—my research was changing the shape of the story?” 

“Dan, I need you to tell me that you didn’t come here and decide to stay with me so you could write our… _this_ into your book.”

Dan takes a deep breath and grabs Noah’s hands. “Noah there’s—there is _no way_ I could have orchestrated this. I would never—I’m leaving _tomorrow,_ why would I do this to myself? On purpose? This—I mean this kinda _sucks_. Why would I drag myself all the way out here, fall _hard_ for a charming bartender, only to leave like three days later?”

“I’m actually not a bartender—”

“Because honestly, Noah, _that_ is a heartbreak I could make up on my own.”

Noah’s eyes are wet and he clears his throat, but Dan shakes his head. 

“My book was one thing when I came out here, and when I leave I know it’s going to be something else. That’s just—” Dan shrugs “—that’s just the process.” 

Noah nods and inhales a shaky breath, exhaling sharply through his nose. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Noah nods again. 

“Good. Now kiss me, I’m getting cold.” He tugs Noah closer by the hands and Noah obeys, laying a sound kiss right on Dan’s lips. Dan grabs the lapels of Noah’s drapey, fleecey overshirt tight and reels him in even closer, letting out a satisfied sound when Noah separates their lips. 

“Good.” Dan says again, and he pushes away every single thought about the fact that he’s leaving in a day. He’ll deal with that later. Like when he’s back in LA with Redmond. 

Redmond will help.

Dan rubs his cheek across Noah’s and lets his lips graze Noah’s jaw before taking a step back. “I’m excited for doughnuts,” Dan whispers, trying to lighten the mood. 

Noah looks at him like he said something else entirely, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a grin. “Me too,” he whispers back.

Dan buys gifts—for friends and also plenty for himself—at the chocolate shop, and then he drags Noah into a boutique clothing store to browse. He finds a gorgeous sweater, black with gold details on the shoulders and near the hips. He hems and haws over the purchase, and then watches Noah sensuously stroke the sleeve and—well it’s settled, then. 

Noah insists on driving Dan’s rental to the field because “parking is tricky,” and Dan doesn’t argue, because Noah leans in close to slip the keys out of Dan’s fingers while he ghosts his lips over Dan’s cheek. Then he backs up abruptly, smiling smugly, and clicking the remote to open the passenger door for Dan. 

In the car, Dan pulls out his phone to check Instagram. Service in town is pretty good, so Dan scrolls for a bit. He likes Stacey’s latest photo of her bathroom remodel, and then locks his phone and sets it in his lap. “I can’t wait to see the different booths,” Dan says, and he means it. He didn’t get a chance to look closely at them last night, too focused on Noah and his friends and Noah and, well, s’mores. 

He remembers the hideous flyer, though, and many of the booths focus on Dan’s favorite fair feature: food. He briefly wonders if he brought enough cash.

“Me too. I think you’re gonna like it.”

Noah pulls the car into a field doubling as a parking lot, and Dan clutches the door as they dip between the pavement and the grass, car rocking wildly. “Whoa,” Dan says.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s a bit rough.” He carefully navigates them down the lane and pulls into the next available open space on the grass. He kills the engine. “Ready?”

Dan nods enthusiastically. “Very.”

Noah takes his hand one Dan gets out of the car, and they walk up to the entrance together. “Are we meeting Annie here?”

“Nah. Just you and me.” Noah squeezes his hand. 

The smell of fried food hits him before they’re even close enough to see the booth signs, and Dan leans dramatically into Noah’s side, inhaling noisily. “Do we have a plan of attack? Is there a map? We should have brought take out containers.” Dan says in a rush, spotting a kid holding a corn dog in one hand and a huge cookie in the other. She’s gonna lose one of those, Dan thinks, grimacing slightly. 

“I… don’t have a plan of attack, no. Most of the booths do have to-go containers.”

Dan nods as they step under the banner and into the festival. His eye catches on a sign for Hattie’s booth and he immediately pulls Noah along. 

Hattie’s offering waffle wedges topped with peanut butter whipped cream, bowls of chili, sour cream and chive waffle fries, and two other things that Dan can’t even contemplate because his mouth is watering. 

“Hi, you two, I’m so glad you made it! I thought maybe we wouldn’t see you til tonight.” Hattie bobs her eyebrows suggestively.

“ _Hattie_ ,” Noah says and Dan slaps a hand over his own mouth to stifle his laughter. Noah continues. “That’s—oh my god, I can’t believe this is happening.” 

Dan’s laughing outright, now, and he turns his head away to get himself under control. Noah can probably see his shoulders shaking, because he lets go of Dan’s hand and mutters a few more woeful sentiments. “Hattie, I’ll take a waffle and waffle fries,” Dan says through his amusement. 

“Comin’ right up,” Hattie says, winking at them both and making Noah grumble some more. 

Dan nudges Noah over to the end of the booth where a teenager is running the cash register. He rings them up, and as Dan’s wiggling his hand into his pocket for his wallet Noah hip checks him out of the way and hands the kid some cash. “Hey!” Dan says, trying to shove him back. “Don’t take his money,” he tells the cashier, but he just laughs and opens the cash drawer with a ding.

Heaving a huge sigh, Dan grabs their order from Hattie and makes a beeline for a recently vacated picnic table. “Noah you can’t just buy all my food for me,” he says as he sits down. Noah sits across from him and hands him a fork. 

“You gonna stop me?” He answers, breaking off a piece of the waffle. He moans around his fork and Dan momentarily forgets what they're talking about. He gets the perfect ratio of all toppings on a huge waffle fry and opens his mouth wide to shove the whole thing in. When his eyes flutter open as he’s chewing, he sees Noah staring at him with a bite of waffle poised in front of his mouth. 

“What?” He asks. 

Noah shakes his head and eats his bite slowly. “Nothing,” he says once he’s swallowed. Dan smirks at him and picks up another fry before swapping their plates. 

After a few bites of waffle, Dan regrets not grabbing drinks from Hattie’s booth. “We need drinks,” he says. Noah nods and wipes his hands. 

“There’s a smoothie booth. I can grab us some water there too. Smoothie flavor preferences? Or you want me to send you a pic of what they’re offering?”

“Hmm. Surprise me. No banana.”

“You got it.”

Noah walks off, and Dan pulls out his phone to take photos of their nearly empty plates, and a few cute booths. He hasn’t documented very much of his trip on Instagram, mostly because he’s not sure how much will make it into the book yet, but he wants to brag about this, at least. The food alone is worth several stories, not to mention his escort through the festival grounds. 

He’s deciding on what to caption the empty food pic when Noah gets back, carrying two smoothies and two water bottles. “Ohh—look at these,” he marvels, setting his phone down and itching to grab one. 

“I got the kiddie size because there’s a lot more food to eat and I don’t want us to get too full up front, you know?”

Dan rests his chin on his hand and sighs happily. “I do know.”

Noah grins and pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Anyway, I got the Island Breeze and the Hawaii 5-0.” Noah points to two descriptions on the list. “Now I know the 5-0 has bananas but I think you should taste it because the pineapple is—”

“—Sold,” Dan says, grabbing the appropriately labeled drink and taking a straw from Noah’s hand. 

“... Okay then.” Noah laughs. Dan sips tentatively, the refreshing pineapple making him shiver pleasantly.

“Ah,” he says. “Delicious. Thank you, Noah.”

“You’re welcome, Dan.”

They sip their smoothies and scroll on their phones for a bit. Dan posts just food pics, and snaps one of Noah’s hand around his smoothie as he picks it up to take a sip. 

“Hey,” Noah says softly. “What’s that for?”

“Doing a little Harvest Fest Instabrag,” Dan says, turning his phone to show Noah. 

Noah lets out a short laugh. “And my smoothie fits into that how?”

Dan tucks his smile into his cheek. “It’s not exactly the _smoothie_ I’m featuring,” Dan says walking his fingers across the table and brushing against the exposed skin of Noah’s forearm.

Noah laughs louder and ducks his head. “Stop.”

Dan hits post and says, “Okay.” 

“Ready for more?”

Dan nods. “Doughnuts.”

“Okay, doughnuts.” Noah takes his hand once they toss their trash. 

On the way to Terry’s booth, which is smartly placed near the back of the field, they stop at another one selling empanadas al pastor, among other dishes. Dan inhales one as soon as Noah pays and hands it to him, and stares regretfully at his empty hands while Noah smugly enjoys his own. Dan narrows his eyes and then walks off in the direction of Terry’s booth. 

Once he arrives, several feet ahead of Noah, who is meandering along with his empanada, Dan immediately orders six doughnuts and pulls out his wallet. He’ll pay for something if it’s the last thing he does. 

Except Terry pulls out an already packed box of donuts and hands it over, shaking his head when Dan forcefully shoves a twenty at him. “Terry, _no,_ ” Dan says, all but stomping his foot.

Noah arrives to grab the box, and takes a paper bag as well to carry the box more easily. “Thanks, man.” He takes the money from Dan’s hand and slips it into Dan’s back pocket. “You don’t need that.”

“Noah, please.” Dan widens his eyes, doing his best puppy dog look. 

Which does not work one bit. “Nope.” Noah kisses his cheek and leads him by the hand over to a booth advertising ice cream. Dan doesn’t remember passing an ice cream shop during his time in town and he wonders where it is. They’re offering four flavors, and they have a sampler—how perfect. 

Dan doesn’t try to pay, but he does carry the sampler over to another miraculously free picnic table near the low stage off to the side of the field. He notices people dragging sound equipment over from the street behind the field. “Is there live music?” Dan asks, whipping his head to face Noah. 

“Yeah, should be starting in a bit. Is that… okay?” He sits down next to Dan this time, their thighs touching, and hands Dan a spoon. 

Dan accepts and digs into the cran-apple sorbet. “Yeah, of course.” 

“I figure we can stay for a set, check out any other booths that stand out, and then head back to the house to probably go into a food coma?”

Dan eats a spoonful of mocha almond fudge. “Mmmm, food coma,” he says, leaning his head on Noah’s shoulder. Noah wraps his arm around Dan’s back and takes a spoonful of the chai flavor. He makes a small noise of satisfaction and nudges the cup over to Dan.

“Try the chai,” he murmurs, dipping his spoon into the cran-apple. Dan tries the chai and wiggles closer to Noah—the ice cream is amazing and Dan kinda wants to live in this moment forever. 

The people with the sound equipment and instrument cases start setting up on stage, and Dan recognizes one of them from the bonfire. “Hey, isn’t that—”

“Matt!” Noah calls and a tall guy in a plaid shirt looks over and waves. Dan gives a small wave back before focusing on the _pièce de résistance_ of the ice cream sampler: Campari grapefruit sorbet. He gets a bite on his spoon and looks at it for a moment.

“It’s not gonna bite,” Noah whispers teasingly.

“I’m _savoring_ the moment.”

“Mm, okay sure.” Dan gives him a sidelong look while slipping the spoon into his mouth slowly. Noah narrows his eyes. “That’s rude.”

Dan smirks and shrugs one shoulder. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Matt walks over before Noah can respond, and Dan sits up straight, pulling the sampler closer to him while Noah is distracted. Dan waves his spoon at Matt in greeting while he and Noah chat about something Dan isn’t listening to. He’s nearly finished with the grapefruit sorbet when he catches a snippet of conversation. 

“Maybe I can talk you into playing with us tonight,” Matt slaps the back of his hand against Noah’s shoulder. 

Dan puts his spoon down. “Play?”

Matt hits Noah again. “You haven’t mentioned you’re a talented musician?” He says, sounding appalled, but he winks at Dan.

“Oh lord,” Noah says, sighing. 

“ _No,_ he did _not_ mention this. What do you play?”

Noah glares at Matt briefly before turning back to Dan. “Piano, mostly. Some guitar—”

“Accordion.”

“Accordion!” Dan exclaims, delighted. “Noah, I can’t believe you didn’t mention this.”

“See, so now you have to play.” Matt nudges Noah’s shoulder with his elbow.

Dan makes an excited noise. “Noah, yes!”

“Noah, no,” Noah replies with a laugh. “No, I won’t be doing that."

“Why not?” He lifts his brows. 

“Be _cause_ ,” Noah starts, “it’s not my show.”

Dan does not understand that at all. “Oh, you mean because you’re so handsome, you’ll hog the spotlight?” Dan teases. 

“Yes, Dan, that’s definitely what I mean.” Noah laughs again and Dan hides a pleased smile behind his napkin.

“Listen, we’re happy to have you whenever you’re in the mood.”

Dan nudges Noah roughly. “Yeah, Noah, whenever you’re in the _mood_.”

“Stop it,” Noah says, but he’s smiling. 

“Nice to see you again, Dan,” Matt says and Dan nods because he has a mouthful of mocha almond fudge ice cream. 

Noah picks up the chai cup right from under Dan’s nose and scoops out the rest. Dan gasps dramatically as Noah grins around his spoon. Dan hastily grabs the mocha and turns away, smiling into his dessert as Noah snickers next to him. 

Matt’s band starts, and Dan finishes their ice cream and watches Noah jam pretty hard to the music. Dan leans his elbow on the table and rests his face in his hand, blinking tiredly at the stage. The music is fine, if not totally Dan’s style, but the musicians look like they’re having fun, and Noah is very cute. 

*

“So what’s the real reason you don’t want to play with Matt and the band,” Dan says as Noah drives them back to the cabin. 

Noah shrugs. “I don’t know, it wasn’t in the plan and I don’t—what are you gonna do while I’m playing?”

“ _Watch you_ , obviously.”

Noah grins. “Oh, obviously.”

“I’d love to watch you play, Noah,” Dan says seriously. 

Noah doesn’t answer, but he does smile. 

*

Dan doesn’t make it upstairs when they get home, shuffling over to the couch and flopping down onto it. “Leave me here to perish,” he says, rubbing a hand over his stomach. He hears Noah drop their doughnuts and things in the kitchen. Dan shifts so he’s laying down, and he pulls the quilt off the back of the couch. It’s folded, and he doesn’t have the energy to shake it out, so he leaves it there piled on his torso. 

Noah peeks over the back of the couch. “You want some water?” 

Dan shakes his head. He wants to take a nap with Noah, that’s what he wants. But they’re not—it’s not like they’re _dating_. 

Noah reaches down to slide his fingers gently through Dan’s hair, and Dan immediately thinks, _fuck it._ He touches Noah’s other hand where it rests on the back of the couch and Noah threads their fingers together. 

“Let’s take a nap,” Dan says softly, giving Noah’s hand a tug. 

Noah tugs back. “Come upstairs.”

Dan swallows audibly and lets Noah pull him into a sitting position. “Is that… advisable?”

Noah pulls the quilt off him and arranges it over the back of the couch again. “It’s just a nap, Dan, and it was your idea. I doubt the couch is big enough.” Noah looks shifty, and it must be because the couch is _definitely_ big enough for the two of them.

“Mmhmm, I see. Upstairs it is, then.”

Dan stops off in his room to change into something more comfortable. He also brushes his teeth just in case. 

Noah’s standing next to the bed when Dan gets there, and it looks like he changed, too. He’s wearing sweatpants and a white t-shirt again, and honestly it’s kind of ridiculous, how good he looks. He’s doing something on his phone but he looks up when Dan knocks gently on the doorframe. 

“Hey, just setting an alarm.” 

Dan nods. It’s clear what “side” of the bed is Noah’s, so Dan walks hesitantly around to the other side. The covers are turned down all the way across the bed, so all Dan has to do is get in, but for some reason he’s stalling. What if this isn’t what Noah meant? What if Noah is about to clarify that he meant they should take a nap in their own beds?

He’s startled when Noah speaks. “You gonna leave me here all alone?” Noah asks, already under the covers. He’s grinning, his head propped up on his hand.

Dan slides under the covers and wiggles his way into Noah’s arms. “I wouldn’t do that,” he whispers, nudging his nose against Noah’s. 

Noah slides his free arm around Dan’s waist, holding him tight, as Dan closes the distance between them, pressing a gentle kiss to Noah’s lips. He does it again, smiling when he hears the rumbly sound in Noah’s throat. He goes all-in then, getting a hand up to press tightly to Noah’s jaw, angling Noah’s head to fit their lips together perfectly. 

Noah gets his hand under Dan’s shirt, nails scratching lightly at a ticklish spot on Dan’s hip. It makes Dan gasp into Noah’s mouth, and they separate for a moment to breathe. “Ticklish,” Dan murmurs, tracing his fingers along Noah’s jaw, up his hairline, sinking them into his curls.

“Sorry,” Noah breathes, but he digs his fingers into the same spot for half a second, grinning when Dan squirms. 

“You’re not.”

Noah gives his head a little shake and blinks sleepily while Dan stifles a yawn. Noah covers up his own yawn and laughs quietly. “We should sleep.”

Dan nods and kisses Noah’s nose before turning over and settling in. 

He’s so tired, and he’s about to fall asleep, when he feels a tentative hand brush against his waist. Noah spoons up behind him, presses his nose to Dan’s hair. “Is this okay?” Noah asks, sliding his hand all the way around Dan’s front. 

Dan touches his palm to the back of Noah’s hand, threading their fingers together. “Perfect,” he whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ice cream flavors from [a real place in Mendocino](http://frankiesmendocino.com/our-menu/).  
> Smoothie flavors from [Project Brunch](https://projectbrunch.com/) not in Mendocino.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii. This chapter is (one of) the reason(s) for the rating, just FYI. Please also keep in mind that this is inspired in part by Hallmark movies so there is a happy ending at the end. I promise. A lot of people expressed concern, but I wouldn't do that to y'all.

Noah’s alarm wakes them both up, but Dan doesn’t move when Noah leans away to turn off the blaring noise. Noah comes right back and gathers Dan close, and Dan smiles and sighs happily. 

“I think this was my best nap ever,” Noah says, breath ghosting over the back of Dan’s neck.

“Happy to help,” he mumbles, hoping very much that they’re going back to sleep.

“We have to get ready for tonight,” Noah says, lips tickling Dan’s ear. Dan blinks his eyes open and rubs his face against Noah’s pillow. 

“Are you going to sing with Matt’s band?” He asks and Noah groans.

“I knew you weren’t going to let that go.”

“I wanna see you perform,” Dan insists, turning in Noah’s arms and kissing Noah’s answer right off his lips. 

Noah blinks, stunned, when Dan pulls back. “Well,” Noah says, clearing his throat. “That’s a convincing argument.”

Dan smirks. 

“I’ll _think_ about it, okay?” 

“Okay.” Dan kisses him again. “You do that.”

“Come on,” Noah urges, unwinding his arm from around Dan. “We’ll want to get a good spot by the stage.”

Dan groans, but it’s just for show, and rolls away to climb out of bed. 

“It’s supposed to be pretty chilly tonight,” Noah says as he stretches. “Not that I’ve seen you wear anything other than a sweater out, but just in case you decided to start tonight.”

Feeling weirdly exposed that Noah’s noticed his penchant for sweaters, and also touched that Noah’s concerned about him being cold, Dan crawls back into bed and expresses his gratitude with several long, deep kisses. 

Noah finally gets them out of bed, and Dan heads back to his room, grabbing his phone from where he’d tossed it earlier at the foot of his bed. There are a few messages from Stacey, and most of them are photos of Redmond, which Dan stares at for way too long. _God_ , he misses Red!

He hears Noah’s shower turn on, and meanders into his bathroom to pee and also check on his hair. He decides he can get away with not showering again, and moves back into the bedroom to decide between his three remaining sweaters. 

He chooses his tan sweater with the record player graphic, and then picks up his black jeans to smell them. He shrugs to himself, they smell fine, and he quickly changes. 

Noah knocks on his door while he’s doing his hair. “Come on in,” he calls, squinting at a lock of hair that just won’t give up. 

“Dan?”

“In here,” Dan says.

“Hey,” Noah greets him, leaning in the doorway. Dan glances over. He’s wearing a dark, _very_ fitted henley with dark, _very_ fitted jeans, and his hair looks like he’s made an attempt at styling it. The words are out of Dan’s mouth before he can stop them.

“Do you have gel in your hair?” Dan stops fiddling with his own hair and turns to look at Noah.

Noah bites the corner of his bottom lip and shrugs, a smile teasing around his mouth. “Maybe it’s pomade.”

“You’re very cute,” Dan says, turning back to the mirror. 

Noah coughs unsubtly and then immediately changes the subject. Which Dan also finds very cute. “You excited to find out who won the s’mores competition?”

“You know, I really am. I think the blind judging really amps up the excitement because I want to know who submitted my fave flavors.”

Noah doesn’t respond, and Dan glances over to see him staring intently at Dan, hands shoved into his pockets. “You okay?” Dan asks, giving up on his hair and moving closer to Noah. 

“Hm?” Noah replies distractedly. “Yeah—yes. I’m good. You ready?”

Dan looks at him skeptically for a few beats and then nods. “Ready.” Noah grabs his hand and leans up to kiss Dan’s cheek.

“I’ll drive.”

“My car.”

“Deal.”

The drive is short, and Dan already knows it by heart—he feels a melancholy pang as they drive past Terry’s bakery and the general store. 

“Matt said they set up chairs for us. I forgot he had them from last night,” Noah says as they trundle into the grass parking lot again. 

“Mm, so we _could_ have stayed in bed longer.”

“If we had stayed in bed longer, I’m a little concerned we would not have left.” He pulls into an open spot and puts the car in park.

Dan lets out a scandalized gasp. “Noah _Reid_ , I’m _not_ that kind of date.”

“Oh,” Noah says, playing along. “That must have been my mistake, misreading your cues as you got back into my bed.”

Dan huffs out a laugh and looks back out the window. “Definitely misread them,” he says, reaching for Noah’s hand where it rests on the gear shift. He gives it a squeeze, and Noah lifts their hands to press a few kisses over Dan’s knuckles. 

“My bad,” he murmurs, but Dan can see the heat in his eyes even though the daylight is almost gone. 

Dan inhales shakily. “Let’s go.” He pulls his hand reluctantly from Noah’s and steps out of the car on slightly wobbly legs. 

Noah grabs his hand when he rounds the back of the car, and Dan swears he’s never held anyone’s hand as much as he’s held Noah’s the past two days. He’s not sure if that’s more about living in LA or the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s never liked anyone the way he likes Noah—even people he’s dated long-term. 

The smells and sounds of Harvest Fest bring Dan back to the present. “I need a corn dog,” he says, eyes skimming over the food options for the night. 

“That’s so weird because I was just thinking that you look like you need a corn dog,” Noah jokes, and Dan steers them over to the right stand. They get cheese fries, and Dan gives a longing look to a tray of fried Oreos, and Noah orders those, too. 

They carry their haul over to the clusters of chairs organized in somewhat of a half-circle around the stage, with a big space in the front for what Dan assumes is dancing, though he’s not sure how that’s going to work if most of the music is like the kind they played this afternoon. Noah weaves them over to two chairs with blankets on them, and Dan sees a six-pack of beer underneath one of them. 

Dan wonders if this is just, like, how people in small towns normally behave. Setting up chairs and beer for their friend who has an out-of-town guest that they’re showing around. Inviting friends on stage to sing at their gig. Running up a tab of baked goods for their friend’s out-of-town guest even though that guest demands to pay for their own doughnuts. 

“We should have brought the doughnuts!” Dan says as Noah takes the food from Dan’s arms so he can sit down. 

“They’re for tomorrow morning,” Noah says, and he looks casual but Dan hears all kinds of intentions in his words. 

“Oh,” he says breathlessly as he takes the food back from Noah so he can get settled. 

“Yes. Plus there’s plenty to eat here.”

Dan nods, halfway through his own corn dog. “Is Matt on first?”

“I think he’s second, but I’m not sure.”

Watching Noah eat a corn dog should not be for public consumption, and Dan stares blatantly as he does it. 

“Have you decided if you’re gonna play a song with them?” Dan presses, well aware that he might press _too_ far and ruin… a whole lot. 

Noah’s saved by the bell, though, as it were, when Terry gets on stage and asks for everyone’s attention. 

“Thank you everyone for being here as we announce the winners of this year’s Harvest Fest competitions! To do the honors, please welcome to the stage Mendocino’s Mayor Robinson!”

The crowd erupts in way more applause than Dan anticipates for the mayor, and he nearly drops his cheese fries. Okay, _their_ cheese fries, if there’s any left for Noah when he’s done.

“Thank you, thank you, let’s get this show on the road so we can party! I’m Karen Robinson, for all you tourists, and I’m the mayor of this beautiful town. Now, what’s first?”

Terry tells everyone that the first winner to be announced is the pumpkin carving contest, and Dan remembers seeing that on the flyer. The winner is a middle-school-aged girl who cries and clutches the trophy to her chest. Her design is a quite skillful representation of Munch’s _The Scream_ , and Dan is skeptical about how much parental guidance was provided here. The girl is thrilled, though, so Dan puts his judgement away for the moment. 

“Okay,” Mayor Robinson says. “I know you’re all really here for the s’mores contest winner, so without further adieu… Terry?” She holds out her hand for the envelope. 

“Okay, in 3rd place, with their simple but _delicious_ addition to a classic, is Hannah Walker with her Nutella s’mores!”

“Oh my god, it’s Hannah!” Dan makes sure his fries are secure before clapping wildly. Dan is surprised Hannah participated, and wonders if her dad convinced her. Maybe there’s prize money. 

Noah’s clapping slows and he looks over in confusion. “Do you… know Hannah?”

Dan nods. “I met her at the general store. She told me about the s’mores competition. Yay!”

Second place goes to someone named Jeremy, who was responsible for the perfection that was the salted caramel s’mores, and Dan is pleased that, so far, his votes were spot on.

“Okay, the moment you’ve all been waiting for…” the mayor says, taking the final envelope from Terry. “The winner of the first annual Mendocino Harvest Festival S’mores Competition is…” She opens the envelope and reads the winner. “Okay, this can’t be fair, y’all. It’s Hattie, with her marvelous interpretation of breakfast: the candied bacon s’more.”

The crowd quite literally goes wild, and Dan thinks that they might actually crowd surf Hattie up to the stage. Terry is clapping so hard Dan thinks he might hurt himself, and Mayor Robinson is still muttering things like, “Y’all really let her enter this contest?”

Dan is beaming as Hattie accepts her trophy and then accepts a bear hug from Terry that momentarily lifts her off her feet. The mayor hands her the microphone and she all but yells into it for a moment. “Oh my god, I am _honored_ to be this year’s winner,” she gushes, and Dan thinks someone may have spiked her apple cider. “Thank you to everyone who voted for me! Free coffee at the diner tomorrow morning!”

The crowd cheers again, and Mayor Robinson takes the mic back. “Please give a round of applause to all of our contestants. Enjoy your night, everyone. To kick it off, here’s Murphy’s Paw.” 

“Wow. So I guess I won," Dan says.

“You won?”

“Yeah, all my votes won.”

“That’s—not how it works.” Noah laughs. 

“Well, it’s true anyway,” Dan says, reaching over to grab a fried Oreo from Noah’s lap. 

“Sure.” Noah picks up the container of fries and eyes the bit that is left.

“You snooze, you lose, Noah,” Dan says, biting into his cookie. 

“ _Clearly_.” He eats the fries and puts the empty container back in Dan’s lap. “Beer?” Noah asks, reaching under his own chair for the six-pack. 

Dan nods. “Please.”

Noah opens a beer and hands it to him, drops his own in his cup holder, and gathers their trash. “Be right back,” he says, kissing Dan’s cheek and weaving over to the garbage can.

Murphy’s Paw takes the stage and they start playing something that sounds vaguely familiar. It’s good enough that it takes Dan to the bridge to notice Noah’s been gone for longer than it should take to throw out three pieces of garbage. He looks around, but it’s tough to see some of the darker corners of the field, where the huge portable stadium lights aren’t pointed. 

The band is much better than Dan expected, if he’s honest. They start up another song, much slower, and a few couples wander over to the space between the chairs and the stage to dance. Dan smiles, because it is quite romantic despite the lumpy grass beneath his feet. He tips his head up to look at the moon, but he’s shocked by the number of stars in the sky. 

Noah comes back and scares the shit out of him while he’s stargazing. “Fuck, Noah, warn a guy,” Dan says, clutching at his chest. 

Noah laughs. “Sorry, babe,” he says, then freezes, hovering above his chair. “Wow, that just came out, I’m—wow—”

Dan blinks and shakes his head, willing himself not to blurt out how much he liked it. “It’s—Don’t worry about it. Sit. Where’d you wander off to?”

Noah rubs a hand over his face and doesn't answer for a beat. He leans in close, because the music is loud. “I was talking to Matt. _If_ I’m going to play something, I would have to have that something figured out before I go on stage. We were chatting about possibilities.”

“ _And?_ ” Dan isn’t sure why he wants this so much, but he really, _really_ does.

“There are a few,” Noah says, shrugging one shoulder and smirking. 

“Fine, don’t tell me.” Dan leans back in his seat and crosses his arms.

“Oh, come on. They’ll be on next, so you’ll just have to wait and see.” Noah picks up his beer and takes a long swig. Dan wishes they were on one big chair so he could lean against Noah, but he’ll have to settle for holding his hand open in the space between their chairs and smiling as Noah slips his fingers over Dan’s palm. 

By the time Dan finishes his beer, Matt’s band has played through two songs and he’s asking the audience to be patient while they welcome a special guest up. Dan whips his head towards Noah, who is smiling nervously at him. “See, that was fast,” he whispers in Dan’s ear before standing. 

Dan wants to pull him in for a good luck kiss before he goes, but decides against it because that’s not— _he’s_ not. It’s just not. Instead he grabs another beer and twists off the cap. 

When Noah gets on stage, there are several high-pitched _woooos_ from the crowd, and Dan presses his grin into his fingers. He wholeheartedly concurs.

Noah settles on the bench in front of the keyboard and plays a few bars. He takes a long drink of the beer he brought on stage. “Hi,” he says into the mic, grinning at the subsequent cheers. “I’m—” he clears his throat, “—I’m Noah Reid, many of you know me, but those of you who don’t hello—and sorry for crashing the party here.” He laughs at himself and Dan is _giddy_. 

“It’ll be quick, promise. This song is—it’s beautiful, and it’s by one of my very favorite artists. Which would be Tom Petty.” He laughs again, and adjusts the mic in front of him. “It’s called ‘Only a Broken Heart.’ Which sounds sad but it’s—it’s not. Not really. Anyway.” He plays a few more bars and then stops. “This is for, um—” he pauses, for a long time, and Dan holds his breath, “—someone special,” he rushes out, then laughs again, nervously. “Who, um, knows who they are. I hope. Okay. Here it is.”

He leans away from the mic and starts playing, and Dan’s not breathing. Noah leans in again and starts singing, and Dan’s hand floats up to his chest, pressing lightly over his heart. Noah’s voice is beautiful, and emotive, and slightly rough over some words, and Dan thinks he might cry because it’s too much. And not nearly enough. 

Dan would very much like Noah to sing to him every day for the foreseeable future, and at the same time he’s quite sure he won’t live through another breathtaking performance like this. Noah closes his eyes as he croons _wait for an answer, hold out forever_ , and Dan bites his lip to stave off a true sob. 

When Noah nearly whispers the final words, Dan can hear the emotion in his voice, and he feels like he could slide right off his chair and fall and fall and fall right into love. He presses his hand harder against his chest. 

The crowd erupts into cheers, and Dan hastily wipes at his face, grateful for the low lighting, because he’s definitely splotchy and gross. 

Noah laughs softly at the praise and waves his thanks at the crowd. “Thank you,” he says, rubbing at his jaw. “Thanks. And give it up for the band, too, who let me take over for a little bit.” He stands and waves again, grabbing his beer heading off to the side of the stage. Several people are waiting for him, and it’s kind of funny because it’s like Noah is famous. 

Dan watches Noah weave through the crowd back to their seats. The band starts back up again, playing a cover song that Dan recognizes but can’t focus on. Because Noah.

“So,” Noah starts, setting down his beer and wiping his hands on his jeans when he sits. “What’d you think—”

Dan hauls Noah in for a kiss, fisting the front of his shirt, slipping his tongue into Noah’s mouth when he gasps. He gets one hand around the back of Noah’s head, scratching his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A wolf-whistle from nearby startles Dan away from Noah’s lips, and he looks around for the source. The people around them seem like they’re deliberately looking away, which is fair, and Dan touches his lips in surprise. Did he really do that? He turns back to Noah, whose eyes are still closed. 

“Oh god,” Dan says. “Sorry—I—”

“No, don’t,” Noah says, eyes fluttering open. “It was—” he swallows “—very good. Good. Job,” he stammers. 

“Oh.” Dan looks down. 

The band starts playing a slow song, and Dan sees a few couples make their way to the makeshift dance floor. “Should we dance? Let’s dance. You wanna dance?” Dan says, standing up. He can’t believe he said it, but it’s out there now and he’s not taking it back. He doesn’t want to.

Noah blinks up at him. “You want to dance?”

“Yes, no, come on.” Dan holds out his hand and wiggles his fingers. A slow smile spreads across Noah’s face, and he sets his hand in Dan’s palm as he stands up. Dan kisses him again, chaste and sweet, before leading him to an open space. There are a lot of people dancing, which makes Dan feel better about being exposed in front of the crowd. 

None of that matters, though, when Noah pulls Dan into his arms. Dan’s arms settle over Noah’s shoulders and Noah’s hands rest low on Dan’s back. Noah’s a good dancer, they sway to the music, and Noah turns them every once in a while. 

Dan just—well he’s just gazing into Noah’s eyes, fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck. Noah’s gazing back, and Dan is glad he has Noah to lean on, because he could easily melt into a puddle even though it's kind of cold out. “This is—” Dan starts, but doesn't know how to finish.

Noah nods in agreement. “I know.”

Dan presses in for a kiss. “What do you know?” He grins.

“Just that—this is. It definitely is."

Dan laughs breathlessly. He hasn't caught his breath since Noah stepped on stage—or maybe since Noah scared him that first morning. “Yeah, it is.” Dan’s skin is hot where Noah is touching him through his sweater, and he feels sweat prickle across his lower back. 

“Let’s go,” Noah whispers against Dan’s lips. 

“After this song,” Dan whispers back, and Noah gives a throaty laugh. 

“Okay.” 

The song ends a minute later, but Dan and Noah stay close for a few extra moments. “Come on,” Noah says softly, gently taking Dan's hand. “We have to take the chairs.”

They pack up their chairs, and Noah gives their last beers to a group next to them, and together they make their way out of the festival grounds. 

Dan gets in the car to turn on the heat while Noah puts everything in the trunk, and then they’re bouncing along through the rough terrain of the parking section. 

The drive is too short for Dan to work himself into an anxious mess about will they or won’t they fall into bed together, but when they get inside and Noah slips his keys onto their designated hook and toes off his shoes, Dan’s anxiety is suddenly right there at a level ten. 

He must look like a deer in headlights or something, because Noah steps close to him and grabs his hands. “I was… thinking we could get changed and you could meet me…” He tosses his head in the direction of the stairs, and his dorky gesture is enough to zap Dan’s hesitation and nerves. 

“Meet you in your bed,” Dan finishes for him, amused. 

Noah giggles and drops his forehead against Dan’s shoulder. “ _Well_ , I didnt wanna _say_ that. It sounded… presumptuous.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Dan says quietly, lips close to Noah’s ear. “I’ve already been in your bed.”

Noah bites playfully at Dan’s shoulder. “Just get upstairs,” he says, stepping back to let Dan take off his shoes. 

“Bossy,” Dan mutters, and Noah laughs his way upstairs. 

Dan changes into a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants, does his skincare to calm his racing heart and then brushes his teeth for good measure. When he can't think of anything else to do, he walks the few feet down the hall into Noah's room. The door is open and Noah pokes his head out of his bathroom, toothbrush in his mouth. “Hi,” he says, voice muffled. “Be right there.”

Dan nods and sits down gingerly on the edge of Noah’s bed. 

“Hey,” Noah says, and he sounds like he just ran up the stairs or something, and Dan smiles at his faux-casual pose in the bathroom doorway. He’s wearing the same clothes he had on for their nap. 

“Hi, Noah,” Dan says, grinning. 

“So—you’re, um—you’re here.”

“Yes, I believe you asked me to meet you here.”

Noah nods several times. “Mmhmm, yeah, yes I did do that. Yes.” Noah rounds the bed and stands next to his bedside table. “I did.”

Dan’s grin falters. “Are you—”

“No! I mean—” Noah rubs a hand through his hair. “I’m just—why am I so nervous?” He lets out a shaky laugh.

“Oh, I think it’s my dashing good looks,” Dan says, hoping to at least get Noah to relax. Noah laughs again, less nervously this time, and Dan decides to just go ahead and get in bed. He puts his glasses on the side table and peels back the covers. 

Noah follows suit, which is great news, and they meet each other in the middle of the bed. The lamp on Noah’s nightstand is still on, but the bulb is dim and Noah’s face is shadowed. 

“I’m—” Noah starts, taking a breath. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Dan rubs his nose against Noah’s. “Me too."

Noah bites his lip, brows dipping in concern. “I—”

“Noah,” Dan cuts him off. “Just kiss me.”

“Okay, yeah.” Noah nods and does. 

Noah kisses him like he always does, focused and intent and demanding, but somehow he’s so polite about it. Dan loses himself immediately in the kiss, and he breathes harshly through his nose as Noah pushes in until Dan’s flat on his back on the bed. Noah stretches out over him until they’re chest to chest, hips flush together, and Dan moans. “Oh,” he mumbles, as Noah’s mouth takes up residence over a sensitive spot under his ear. “Oh,” he gasps again when Noah’s teeth drag over his neck.

Dan buries his hand in Noah’s hair, tugging gently when Noah bites at the column of his throat. “Mmm,” he hums, slipping his other hand under Noah’s shirt to stroke over the warm skin of his back. Dan huffs out a laugh when Noah licks all the way up his neck, nipping at his ear lobe. 

“Ticklish?” Noah asks, sliding down Dan’s body. Dan’s dick is _very_ interested in everything that’s going on. 

“No,” Dan breathes, brushing Noah’s hair off his forehead. Noah pushes up Dan’s t-shirt, then gets frustrated and starts tugging more insistently. “Okay,” Dan laughs, sitting up and helping Noah pull his shirt off. “You, too,” he says, grabbing the hem of Noah’s shirt as well. 

Once they're both shirtless, Dan lets Noah push him back down on the bed, sighing at the feeling of skin against skin. Noah rubs himself over the hair on Dan’s chest, and Dan squirms as Noah’s stubbly check brushes over a few sensitive spots on his stomach. “Noah,” he laughs. “ _That’s_ ticklish.”

“Oh?” Noah says, digging his fingers into the same spot. 

Dan jerks away with another laugh. “Nooo.”

Noah laughs, too, but then brushes his lips over the same sensitive skin, and Dan gasps, shivering as goosebumps spread. Dan wants to kiss him, so he paws at Noah’s bare shoulders. “Come here,” Dan urges, and Noah grins as he crawls back up Dan’s body. 

“I’m here,” Noah says. Dan surges forward, he’s desperate all of a sudden, and Noah takes it, catching Dan’s face between his hands, letting Dan lead them. Dan moans, presses their hips together and feels Noah hard against his hip. 

Noah rocks forward against him, and then he’s working a hand between them, he’s so close to where Dan wants him, but he’s not _moving_.

“Noah,” Dan whimpers. “Please.”

“Oh,” Noah breathes. “Yeah?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Dan says, darting forward to nip at Noah’s kiss-swollen lips. 

Noah slides his hand over, wraps it around Dan’s dick through his pajamas, and Dan groans softly pressing his forehead to Noah’s. “Oh god,” he says, shuddering. He bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut, clutching at the fistful of Noah’s hair he’s got tangled in his fingers. 

Noah feels so good against him and around him and Dan tips forward to fit their mouths together again. It’s messy now, Dan’s uncoordinated because Noah’s hand on him is driving him crazy. “Noah,” he says, but he doesn’t know why. 

“I want to—” Noah swallows, kissing Dan again. 

“You want to...?” Dan repeats between kisses, panting as Noah starts to slip his hand inside Dan’s pajamas. 

“You make me crazy,” Noah whispers, eyes wild, and Dan thrusts forward against Noah’s rough fingers. 

“ _You_ ,” Dan says, dragging his hand over Noah’s chest to rub his fingers over one of Noah’s nipples. Noah bites hard at Dan’s shoulder, and he swipes clumsily at the wetness beading at the head of Dan’s dick. 

“Oh fuck,” Dan gasps. “Wait, let’s—” He starts pushing at the waistband of Noah’s pants. He needs Noah to be naked and he needs to breathe and he needs to keep kissing Noah. 

Noah takes a few moments to get on board, choosing to kiss Dan again instead, pants halfway down his ass.

“Come on,” Dan whines. 

“Hey,” Noah says, cupping Dan’s jaw in his free hand. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, and then proceeds to pull Dan’s pants and underwear all the way off. Dan kicks the garments off his feet, giggling when his briefs get stuck around his ankle. Noah shoves the covers off them and gets up on his knees to reach down and untangle them. 

Dan ogles the lines of Noah’s body as he’s reaching, and he hooks his fingers in the waistband of Noah pants and pulls, letting the elastic snap back. “You too?” Dan asks, waggling his eyebrows. He’s mostly teasing, but he’s feeling a little too exposed being the only one totally naked.

“Let me just look at you?” Noah says, bracing both hands on either side of Dan’s head and leaning down for a kiss. Dan indulges him, obviously, but still fumbles clumsily with Noah’s clothes. 

“That’s not looking,” Dan says when Noah lets him breathe again. 

“Fair enough,” Noah murmurs, kissing him again. “I just—can’t stop kissing you.” 

Noah’s words wash over Dan in a wave of warmth, catching on every part of his body he wants Noah to touch. “Noah, please,” he says, he’s desperate and wanting and— 

“Yeah,” Noah agrees, then kisses his way back down Dan’s body, pausing at Dan’s hip to kiss over the same ticklish spot he’d found this afternoon. Dan laughs breathily and wiggles his hips against the bed. 

“Noah,” he laughs. 

“I like when you say my name.” Noah presses the words into his skin, licks a path along the crease of Dan’s thigh. He’s so, so close to where Dan wants him, and Dan threads his fingers through Noah’s hair again. “I’ve been… wanting to do this,” Noah whispers, but Dan hears his voice like he’s speaking right in Dan’s ear. 

“Yeah?” Dan pants. 

“Mmhmm.” Noah’s nodding, the stubble on his cheek scratching deliciously over the inside of Dan’s thigh. Noah slowly wraps his fingers around the base of Dan’s cock, and that alone makes Dan’s hips jump. Noah grins, so smug, and flutters his lips along the underside of Dan’s dick. 

“Ohhh,” Dan sighs. “That’s—”

“That good?”

Dan nods, petting at Noah’s head. “Very good.” He gasps as Noah licks wetly up his dick, then back down, hums teasingly. Heat is already building low in his belly and at the base of his spine and the tips of his toes when Noah gently pushes his thighs wider, making more room for himself between Dan’s legs. 

Noah hovers over the head of Dan’s dick, licks at the drops of precome beading there, then drops his mouth open and slides his slick lips down Dan’s length to meet his hand. 

“Ohhh, Noah,” Dan moans, touching Noah’s cheek, slipping his fingers down to curl under Noah’s jaw. He feels Noah swallow around him—feels it against his fingers and against the head of his dick and he tightens the fingers of his other hand where they’re caught in Noah’s curls.

Noah pulls off with a wet smack of his lips, and Dan pulls his hands away from Noah’s head and rests them on his own hips. 

“Sorry,” he breathes, adjusting his legs to a new position. “I just—” He breathes again. “You’re really good at that.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Noah says, not looking at Dan but staring at his dick. “S’good.” 

Noah _is_ very good at this, but Dan kind of… misses him. He taps his fingers on Noah’s shoulders. “Come back.”

Noah frowns, looking up at him through his lashes. “Something wrong?” He asks, practically shimmying up Dan’s body, and _that’s_ a memory Dan’s filing away for personal use. 

“No, no, nothing’s wrong. Everything’s right.” Dan cradles Noah’s face in his palms and lays a sound kiss on his lips. He tugs at the covers and pulls them up so the two of them are ensconced. “Except you should be naked.” Dan grins and rubs a hand over where Noah is hard in his sweats. 

He’s—he’s also kinda huge. Dan squeezes Noah’s dick gently, trying not to be awkward when he’s clearly feeling how big Noah’s dick is. He bites his lip to stifle a moan. Noah clears his throat. “Thought you wanted me naked.”

“ _God_ , I want you naked like _yesterday_ ,” Dan replies, trying to focus again, on something beside the feeling of Noah’s dick, and he pushes yet again at Noah’s pants. Noah helps this time, putting a few inches between them and wiggling out of the rest of his clothes. 

“Did you?”

“Hmm?” Dan asks, pushing the blankets back down so he can see for himself what Noah’s working with. 

“Want me naked yesterday.” Noah wraps his hand around his own dick and gives it a few slow strokes. So much of it peeks out from the top of his fist, and Dan swallows audibly. 

“Yes,” Dan says, running his hands over Noah’s chest, stopping again to tease his nipples, which have the desired effect of making Noah throw his head back with a moan. “Yes, I wanted you naked yesterday and the day before that.”

Noah’s panting now and Dan hauls him in for a messy kiss with too much tongue but Dan’s not stopping for anything, not even for Noah saying, “The day before that was the day we met,” right into Dan’s mouth. 

“I know,” Dan says back, tilting Noah’s head back with a hand in his hair and sucking a kiss into his collarbone. 

Noah keens under him. Dan can feel Noah’s pulse racing under his lips, can feel the motion of Noah’s hand as he jerks himself off. “Dan, Dan—oh,” Noah babbles, maneuvering his other hand around Dan’s back, down over his ass. Dan takes over for Noah’s hand, trying to match the rhythm he was using. 

They need lube, definitely, but Dan doesn’t want to give attention to anything but Noah. He mouths his way back up Noah’s neck, biting at his jaw, dragging his lips roughly over the stubble around his mouth. This kiss is hot, and desperate, and Noah grabs Dan’s face with one hand, his fingers tight behind Dan’s ear. 

“Wanted—” Noah says between kisses. “Wanted to make you come.” Dan pulls away to lick his palm. 

He gets his hand back on Noah’s dick. “You will make me come,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. Noah nods, gasping, and puts his hand back on Dan’s dick. 

Their movements are jerky and uncoordinated and clumsy, but Dan’s _so_ turned on, and Noah feels so good against him, skin warm and sweaty and Noah’s hand is tight and perfect and Noah’s lips are whispering soft, sweet, and dirty encouragement into his ear and he just needs— 

“Noah,” he says, but Noah just hums in agreement and slides his lips back to the sensitive spot on Dan’s neck, setting his teeth there as he sucks a biting kiss into Dan’s skin. The shock of Noah’s teeth, and the sensation of Noah’s hand twisting up over the head of Dan’s cock, makes Dan lose concentration. He’s not doing his part anymore, he’s just panting and moaning into the skin of Noah’s shoulder.

“Dan,” Noah says, lips right up against what will definitely be a bruise. “Come on,” Noah breathes, and that’s it, Dan cries out Noah’s name as he comes, his back arching almost painfully as Noah strokes him through it. 

“Fuck,” Dan whispers, kissing whatever part of Noah he can reach. He gets his bearings after a few moments, and realizes Noah’s thrusting slowly against his thigh. He must be desperate—Dan feels him, hot and hard, and hears him whining softly with every motion. 

“Okay,” Dan says, petting the back of his head. “C’mere.”

Noah shakes his head where it’s buried in Dan’s neck. “Close—like this.”

Noah’s so wet where he’s pressed against Dan, so Dan doesn’t do anything but nudge Noah’s head up to kiss him. Noah’s pliant and eager at the same time, and Dan groans when he feels his own dick twitch, like he’s going to be ready to go again any time soon. 

“Dan,” Noah says, eyes half-open, but follows it up with nothing, just another sloppy kiss as his body tenses up and then trembles as he comes against Dan’s thigh. “Dan,” Noah says again, voice hoarse.

“Noah,” Dan agrees, keeps pressing his lips to Noah’s, can’t seem to stop. Noah eventually starts kissing back again, slow and gentle, and eventually Dan has to pull away, lips too tender. 

Noah’s grinning—he _would_ look smug after sex—blinking slowly at Dan. “Hey,” he says, snuggling closer.

“Hi, Noah.”

He kisses Dan’s cheek and then turns to rummage around the drawer of his nightstand for a minute and comes back looking adorably triumphant holding a fistful of tissues. Dan snorts out a laugh and then slaps a hand over his mouth—what a way to ruin the afterglow—but Noah just beams at him and gives them both a quick, effective clean-up.

Dan pulls the covers up around their shoulders, settling on his back as Noah wraps an arm around Dan’s waist, snuggling his head into Dan’s shoulder. They lay there for a few minutes, still getting their breathing under control, though Dan isn’t sure he’ll ever breathe the same again. 

Noah’s still half-hard, poking against Dan’s leg, and Dan can’t keep the words in his mouth. 

“So,” he starts, so casually, the most casual he’s ever been, he’s sure of it. “You have a huge dick.”

Noah groans and presses his face into Dan’s neck. “Nooo,” he protests. “Don’t."

Dan blinks at the ceiling, petting over the sweaty hair at the back of Noah’s head. “Don’t what?”

Noah shrugs, jostling Dan’s hand around his shoulders. “It’s—I don’t know.”

“You… don’t know… ?” Dan starts his fingers back up in Noah’s hair, and uses his other hand to run the backs of his fingers down Noah’s arm. 

Noah says something but it’s too quiet and too muffled for Dan to make out. 

“What was that?” Dan says softly. Noah turns his head so he’s facing Dan instead of Dan’s shoulder. 

“Is it—okay? I—it’s not like—I don’t know, I don’t like to just _say_ it, like ‘Oh, by the way my dick is huge, just FYI.’”

Dan snorts and shifts their positions slightly so he can look Noah in the eye. “Are you asking me if it’s okay that you have, um, a big dick?”

Noah doesn’t reply. 

“You are so—you’re something, Noah.” He kisses Noah’s forehead. “I find ‘okay’ to be _quite_ an understatement, just so you know.”

“Mmph.” Noah kisses Dan’s neck. He moves his lips behind Dan’s ear, licking teasingly at the sensitive skin, over the soreness of the mark he left there. 

“Noah,” Dan says, trying to say ‘I can’t get it up again’ in one word, but it comes out way too breathy to be effective. 

“Dan,” Noah says back, biting gently now, making Dan gasp.

“Okay,” Dan laughs. “Okay. Let’s—we can pick this up tomorrow.”

Noah makes a sad, dramatic noise and pulls away to pout. 

Dan rolls his eyes, but he’s secretly pleased that Noah wants to fool around again. Noah snuggles back into Dan’s side after planting a wet kiss on his cheek. 

They’re quiet again, and Dan’s thoughts drift to an alternate universe where Noah lives in LA and they meet at one of Stacey’s parties. Or Dan has to move to Mendocino for some unknown, irrelevant reason and they meet at Hattie’s or at Noah’s bar after Dan goes on a bad date. 

Dan had been thinking that they might be able to stay in touch, but the idea of contacting Noah, being reminded of all the amazing things about him—his laugh, his wild curls, the way he says so many things in the syllable of Dan’s name—knowing they’ll never be together. Settling for small talk while feelings fade? Dan can’t do that.

And Noah—he’s so physically affectionate that Dan doubts they’d make it if long-distance was involved. He asks anyway. “I don’t suppose,” he starts, then stops. What if Noah is asleep?

“Yeah?” Noah mumbles sleepily.

“I don’t suppose we can do something long-distance,” Dan whispers, can’t even believe he’s saying this. He’s known Noah for three days. 

“I’ve—” Noah moves away slightly, pressing his elbow into the mattress and propping his head on his hand. “I’ve tried that before. Few times,” he says quietly, reaching up with a finger to brush away a lock of damp hair flopped over Dan’s forehead. “It—it’s just not for me, to be honest.” Noah smiles sadly. “I’d—I need you—here with me. It’d—” He swallows, clear his throat softly.

“It’d be too hard,” Dan finishes for him, blinking away the prickling behind his eyes. 

“Yeah.” Noah nods and kisses over Dan’s cheeks where some tears managed to escape. “It’s okay, Dan.”

Dan makes a noise of disagreement. 

Noah smiles softly. “It will be.” He kisses Dan, then, sweet and sure, filling Dan with warmth again. Dan pushes away thoughts of LA.

Noah puts their positions back together, tucking his head under Dan’s chin. “I’m excited to spend the day together tomorrow.”

“Doughnuts,” Dan sighs happily, giving Noah a squeeze.

“Yes, Dan," Noah says indulgently. "Doughnuts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Noah sings, Only A Broken Heart by Tom Petty, is one he covered (with someone I don't know) at the Sawdust City Music (?) festival (I think) but I can't find a link to a video so you'll just have to take my word for it. [Here are the lyrics tho.](https://genius.com/Tom-petty-only-a-broken-heart-lyrics)
> 
> EDIT: A lovely reader (AlexisSomethingRose) found a video and corrected the location!!!! It’s from his Great Hall show in Toronto and he’s singing with Ivy Mairi. https://youtu.be/VWMx_pdST1I


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay y'all. As you all know, this chapter is Dan's last day in Mendocino. So if you are someone who likes to wait for the chapter after... dare I say it... _light angst_ , you may want to wait until chapter 7. I think you can handle it, but just FYI.

Dan wakes up to an empty bed, but the sheets next to him are still body-warm, and he rolls over and wiggles around in them for a minute. 

“I wasn’t gone that long and already you’ve taken over the whole bed.”

Dan whips the covers off his face and sees Noah in his underwear and a t-shirt carrying two cups of coffee with their box of donuts balanced on top. Dan kneels up on the bed to carefully grab the box, to be helpful, yes but also: doughnuts. 

Shivering in only his underwear, Dan gently lays the pastry box on the bed and leans over to find his shirt on the floor. Noah sets their mugs on the nightstand and scoops up a garment from the floor, flinging it at Dan’s head. 

He sputters for a moment before shaking the fabric out to reveal his pants. “Watch the doughnuts.” He narrows his eyes for a beat, before getting out of bed to get his pants on and find his shirt, too. 

Before he can even get a knee up on the bed again, Noah tugs hard on Dan’s arm. He lets out a startled yelp and tumbles into the bed, right into Noah’s arms, and then he’s laughing into Noah’s kiss. It takes a few moments to get his giggles under control, as Noah presses kiss after kiss to Dan’s smiling lips. 

Noah cups his cheek, which makes him focus, and he groans softly when he feels Noah’s warm hand underneath his shirt, gently brushing over his lower back. “Mmm,” Dan hums against Noah’s mouth. “Good morning.”

Noah nods, his nose brushing Dan’s. “It is.”

Dan presses their lips together quickly. “Where’d the doughnuts go?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t crush them,” Noah says, sliding his fingers through Dan’s hair. Dan lets his eyes flutter closed for a moment, leaning into the pressure of Noah’s fingers against his scalp. 

“I wasn’t worried,” he says. “I’m just hungry.” He bites playfully at Noah’s lips. 

“Better not keep you, then,” Noah says, nudging Dan away and sitting up against the headboard. Dan follows suit, and Noah puts the box of doughnuts in Dan’s lap, and passes Dan his own cup of coffee. 

Dan deposits it on the nightstand and flips open the lid to the doughnuts. There are two kinds, some with powder and some with just cinnamon sugar on top. He delicately selects an unpowered autumn treat and takes a huge bite, eating almost half the doughnut. 

“I’ll definitely miss that,” Noah says, teasing and melancholy all at the same time. 

Dan frowns. “Noah—” He says once he swallows.

“No—I’m sorry—I didn’t mean that. I just—like teasing you.” He bumps their shoulders. 

“I’ve noticed.” Dan carefully shoves the rest of the doughnut in his mouth. 

Dan eats another doughnut, and he and Noah split a powdered one and get sugar everywhere despite taking the utmost care. 

When they put the doughnut box aside and come back together, Noah’s lips are sweet and warm as they slide against Dan’s. It’s molasses-slow and it makes Dan smile even though he should be sad. 

Noah laughs when Dan smiles so wide they’re not even kissing. “What are you so smiley about?” He says kissing his way over to Dan’s ear.

Dan wiggles closer to Noah, so they’re chest to chest, and presses their hips together. “I dunno,” he murmurs. “You, I guess.” He slips his hand down Noah’s torso.

“Me, you guess,” Noah repeats, grinning, hips twitching forward.

“Mmhmm.” Dan nods. He rubs against Noah’s half-hard dick through his underwear, watching Noah’s face, cataloguing everything that makes his lashes flutter, everything that makes him bite his lip, everything that makes him smirk. 

Dan slips his hand inside Noah’s underwear, and Noah lets out a quiet gasp. “Like that?” Dan says, pitching his voice low, remembering how Noah shuddered against him last night. 

Noah surges forward and all but shoves his tongues into Dan’s mouth, hooking one hand around the back of Dan's neck, hitching his hips forward to slide his dick roughly into Dan’s fist. He’s whimpering in the back of his throat, and Dan almost ruins another kiss with a smug smile. 

Noah squeezes Dan’s hip with his other hand, and when Dan bites roughly on Noah’s bottom lip, Noah squeezes him tighter. Dan gasps, and then has a brief thought that Noah might leave bruises on him.

“Sorry,” Noah murmurs, moving his hand away.

Dan can’t shake his head fast enough. “You’re good.”

“Mm,” Noah hums.

“Great, even.”

“Great,” Noah agrees, kissing his way down Dan’s neck, sliding his hand around to cup Dan’s ass. 

Noah’s hot and hard and huge in Dan’s hand and his mouth is watering at the thought of wrapping his lips around Noah’s cock. “Hey,” he whispers and Noah lifts his head to look at him.

“Hmm?” Noah blinks slowly.

“Can I…?” Dan trails off.

Noah furrows his pale brows. “Can you…?”

Dan pushes gently at Noah’s shoulder so he’s laying flat on the bed, and he tries his best to maneuver down Noah’s body in a non-awkward way. 

“Oh,” Noah breathes, running a shaky hand through the front of Dan’s hair. “Oh, okay.” Dan noses as the base of Noah’s dick. 

“Can I?” Dan says again, breathing hotly over the tip, tempted to lick at the bead of wetness there, but he wants Noah to say it. 

“Yeah.” Noah nods, breath coming quick already. “Please. I mean if you want—”

“I want,” Dan says, and slides his lips down over the head, swirling his tongue. There’s no way Dan’s getting very far here, but he opens his mouth a little wider, encouraged by the sweet, desperate noises coming from Noah. 

“Oh, oh—Dan,” Noah keeps gasping like he can’t catch his breath, and Dan wraps his fist around Noah’s dick where his mouth can’t reach. His spit slicks the way for his hand and he pulls off to give his jaw a rest. He rubs at it with his free hand and Noah makes a concerned noise.

Dan looks up the line of Noah’s body. “I’m fine.” He smirks, but Noah slides his hand out of Dan's hair and brushes his fingertips over Dan’s lips. 

“You’re gorgeous.” Noah gives him a crooked smile and Dan presses a kiss to his palm. 

“Sweet talker.” Dan grins. “I’m already down here, you don’t have to seduce me.”

“Can’t stop,” Noah says, and tilts his hips up with a smirk.

Dan licks a long stripe up the underside of Noah’s dick, then takes the tip in his mouth again, keeping his eyes trained on Noah’s, as he takes as much as he can. Noah bites at his own lip, traces his fingers along Dan’s lips where they’re stretched wide around Noah.

“Dan,” Noah sighs, and damn, Dan wants to bottle that breath and take it with him. 

He works his fist along Noah’s length, then dips his head down to tongue carefully at Noah’s balls. That makes him moan, loud and desperate, and Dan smirks up at Noah from between his legs. 

“Oh, fuck,” Noah says, softer, and tangles his hands back into Dan hair. “That’s—yeah.” 

Dan takes Noah in his mouth, using his other hand to press a finger up behind Noah’s balls, moaning when he feels Noah’s thighs shake against him. He hums around Noah’s dick, and closes his eyes, taking a little bit more into his mouth.

“ _Ah_ —I’m—” Noah pulls insistently at Dan’s hair. “That’s—” he starts, and Dan swallows around him. “Wait—I—” He pulls harder at Dan’s hair, scratches at his shoulders. 

Dan pulls off and frowns. “You okay?”

Noah’s panting and petting Dan’s hair where he pulled. “Yes, god, I’m—I just want to—c’mere,” he says, and Dan presses a messy kiss to the head of his dick and crawls—or maybe flails—up the bed. 

“Hi,” Dan says, settling on top of Noah. 

“Hi,” Noah replies, kissing Dan roughly before pushing him onto his back and climbing on top of him. He straddles Dan’s hips and wraps a fist around his dick. 

“Oh,” Dan gasps, gripping Noah’s hips. “Okay, yeah.”

“Yeah?” Noah pants, stroking himself quickly.

Dan rubs up and down Noah’s thighs, scratching gently up over the dip of his hips. “God, you look amazing—you look so fucking good, Noah.”

Noah groans softly, tightening his knees around Dan’s waist. “Fuck,” he says, and Dan runs his fingers over his trembling abs, feeling them tense. He can’t stop touching Noah, reaches up to pinch Noah’s nipples, brushing his fingers over Noah’s biceps as they tense and release as Noah’s strokes himself. 

“Dan,” Noah says. “Dan.”

Dan meets his gaze. “Hmm?”

“I’m gonna come.” Noah’s fucking into his own hand and Dan licks his lips in anticipation. 

“Yeah, go on, come on me,” Dan encourages, dragging a hand up his own chest. 

“Oh god,” Noah cries out, his whole body tensing for a second before he comes all over Dan’s chest. Some of it streaks as high as Dan’s nipples, but most of it ends up just dripping over Noah’s fist, making a mess over Dan’s stomach. 

Noah’s breathing hard, and he tips over to the side, bracing himself with his hand as he stretches out along Dan’s side with a groan. He rubs a hand over Dan’s chest right away, rubbing his come into Dan’s skin, and nuzzling into Dan’s neck.

Dan grins. “Mm, hi Noah,” he says, turning his head to catch Noah’s lips in a deep kiss, easy and loose, like everything else about Noah right after he comes. He makes an attempt to throw his leg over Dan’s hips, to match his arm that’s sliding over Dan’s torso, but he just manages to get over one of Dan’s thighs. 

Dan huffs a laugh against Noah’s lips and grabs Noah’s thigh to pull his leg higher. Noah’s leg brushes over Dan’s dick, only half-hard now, but still very interested in the activities. That must shock Noah into action, because he gasps dramatically and pulls away, eyes widening adorably. 

“Your dick,” he says, and doesn’t elaborate, just squirms down the bed and kisses his way over Dan’s torso, his hip, and takes Dan all the way into his mouth. 

Dan’s hips twitch up automatically, and Dan pets Noah’s head in apology. “Oh my god,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut as Noah works his mouth back up to the tip of his dick. He goes back down slowly, so slow Dan thinks he might never get there, and he’s making a quiet, sexy noise in the back of his throat, it sounds like _he’s_ getting the blowjob. “Noah,” Dan says, voice growing hoarse. “Noah,” he says again. “You’re—” 

He’s—Dan doesn't even _know_ what, but it’s something and Noah should know. “Fuck,” Dan says when his dick hits the back of Noah’s throat. “Oh, fuck.”

Noah hums, long and low, and it shakes through Dan, making him moan, too. Dan’s close, so close, Noah got him so close, so fast, and _god_ , what—

“Noah,” he says urgently. “Noah.” He pushes hair off Noah’s forehead so he can see Noah’s face, see Noah’s red lips stretched around Dan’s dick, his flushed cheeks, his wide, bright eyes—when they flutter closed in pleasure, Dan comes spectacularly in Noah’s mouth. He can see Noah’s throat working, slips his hand down to feel it, but Noah keeps sucking, bobbing his head. Dan sees the come at the corners of Noah’s mouth and he throws his head back against the pillow because he can’t take it anymore. 

“Oh my god,” he says with a sigh. “Oh my god.”

Noah pulls slowly off Dan’s dick, kissing his way back up Dan’s body—mouthing over his hip, licking at some of the come on Dan’s chest, biting teasingly at Dan’s nipple. Dan huffs out a laugh and squirms when Noah rubs his bristly cheek over the same spot. “Noah,” Dan warns.

“Dan,” Noah says in the same tone, kissing up Dan’s neck and landing on his lips. He rolls onto his back and pulls Dan on top of him, holding him tight and kissing, kissing, kissing him.

They kiss until Dan’s body hair starts pulling too uncomfortably to continue, and Dan leans away to admire Noah’s red, kiss-swollen lips. 

“We should shower,” Dan whispers, which is the last thing he wants to suggest—them getting out of bed. 

“I don’t want to.”

Dan smiles and brushes a tender kiss to Noah’s forehead. “I know.” 

*

They shower in their own showers, a mutually agreed-upon strategy to, at the very least, make sure they get dressed and make it to Hattie’s for one last milkshake. Dan almost goes back to Noah’s room three times while he’s getting dressed, doing his skincare, drying his hair. He manages to talk himself out of it. The way he longs for Noah from two doors down, it’s unbelievable. 

Dan rolls his eyes at himself, deciding that self-denial is probably the best mode of protection against feelings for the day. 

His clothing selection is bleak for the last day, so he’s wearing a simple color block sweater and jeans that he doesn't love but that Stacey always compliments. 

Dan miraculously gets to the kitchen first, lamenting the fact that he didn’t grab the box of doughnuts from Noah’s room before they separated. His haul from the chocolate shop is still on the counter, though, so he slides a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels out of their sleeve and crunches into one. 

He wanders over to the back door, and promptly flushes with embarrassment as he remembers hiding back here on his first morning at the cabin. He takes another bite of the pretzel, scolding his brain because he certainly doesn’t need to be focusing on _that_ right now. 

“You hiding again?” Noah’s voice startles him and he drops the last piece of his pretzel, watches it break in half as it hits the floor. 

Dan stares at Noah, jaw dropped. “My—! Noah!”

Noah blinks. He’s holding their now-empty coffee mugs and the box of doughnuts in his hands. “Sorry. You’re so jumpy in the kitchen!” Noah says, setting the items down. 

“That’s victim-blaming!” Dan leans over to snatch the snack off the floor and toss it in the trash.

Noah grins. “Forgive me. How can I make it up to you?” He slides into Dan’s personal space, resting a hand on Dan’s hip. 

“Buy me a milkshake.”

Noah darts in for a quick kiss. “You know I will.”

They spend a few minutes making out in the kitchen for, you know, posterity, before heading out to Hattie’s. 

“You wanna drive?” Dan offers. “For old times’ sake.” 

Noah laughs, but he agrees, and Dan knows he’s pleased. 

Dan folds himself down into the passenger seat of Noah's old-ass car, buckles himself in and lets Noah spread the blanket over his lap. Dan presses his lips together to hide his smile. It doesn’t work, so he kisses Noah’s cheek instead. 

The drive to the diner makes Dan’s eyes sting a bit, and he blinks rapidly against the prickling of tears. He can’t spend the whole day crying, that just won’t do. 

Noah lays a hand on Dan’s thigh and squeezes, and Dan lays his hand over Noah’s. He lets out a deep sigh, leaning his head against the window. 

They’re at Hattie’s in no time, and Dan contemplates refusing to get out of the car, like a child who doesn’t want to go to the doctor. It sounds like a viable solution until Noah gets out, walks around the front of the car, and opens Dan’s door for him. He holds out his hand, and Dan inhales deeply and takes it.

“C’mon—lunch at Hattie’s is the best,” is all Noah says, closing Dan’s door and tugging him along.

They sit at the same booth as their first meal, luckily it’s available—the diner is more crowded today, Dan guesses because it’s the weekend. Noah orders them both BLTs and vanilla milkshakes, which Dan appreciates because Hattie’s menu is quite intimidating and Dan can’t have doughnuts for breakfast _and_ pancakes with milkshakes for lunch and _then_ drive two hours to the airport. Sugar coma induced car crashes aren't a good look.

“So what are your plans for when you finally get back to the big city?” Noah asks. 

“Oh, you know, lay in bed crying for days until Stacey breaks into my apartment with a case of wine and makes me tell her this whole story.” Dan laughs, but it’s fake, and Noah frowns like he knows. 

“Dan.”

“Okay maybe I’ll just cry for one day.”

Hattie arrives with their order, plus an order of tater tots. “Tots!” Dan says, delighted. “Hattie, you’re too good to me.”

“I think they’re for both of us,” Noah says, reaching to grab one. Dan pulls the plate closer to his side of the table. 

“Then how come they’re all the way over here next to me?” Dan smirks and pops one in his mouth.

“You boys enjoy.” Hattie wiggles her fingers over their table, then points a finger at Dan. “Don’t be a stranger, now, Daniel,” she says sternly.

Dan swallows his second tater tot. “Wouldn’t dare,” he replies, eyes wide, a little scared. 

They sit in silence for a moment and then Noah leans in to whisper, “I can’t believe you got full-named by _Hattie.”_

“I know,” Dan whispers back and gives an exaggerated shiver. “I won’t be crossing her any time soon.” 

They eat their sandwiches and drink their milkshakes like two boyfriends on a date, and it’s both delightful and so damn sad that Dan is having trouble deciding how to feel. 

Halfway through their meal, Terry walks up to their table. “Terry,” Noah greets, sounding surprised, so at least Dan knows this wasn’t his idea. 

“Hi, boys. Hattie told me you were here—wanted to drop off this box of pastries for your trip home, Dan.” He sets a box on the table between them. “And don’t even think of getting out your wallet.”

“I can only take rejection so many times, Terry,” Dan says, laying his hand over the box. “This is—very generous, thank you.” He clears his throat against the onslaught of emotion and pushes his glasses up his nose. “I—I don’t know what else to say.”

Terry claps him gently on the shoulder. “Don’t have to say anything. Hope we see you again, Dan.” Oh god, and doesn't _that_ just stab Dan right in the heart. Dan stares at the pastry box as Terry says something to Noah, and then heads back out the door. They’re quiet until the bell over the door dings, signaling his departure. 

Noah reaches for Dan’s hand where it’s laying on the table, gives it a good squeeze. “You okay?”

Dan shakes his head. “No.” He squeezes Noah’s hand back and picks up the second half of his sandwich. 

“Okay you have to eat the last few,” Dan groans when they’re nearly finished, pushing the tots towards Noah. 

“You got yourself into this.” He leans back against the squeaky leather and folds his arms across his chest. 

Dan pouts and pokes at a tot. “Come on! We can’t waste them. I’ll have one more and you have the rest.” He nudges the plate again. 

Noah takes pity on him at last and grabs the final handful, shoving them in his mouth all at once. Dan wrinkles his nose and Noah shrugs. “You asked for it,” he says while chewing.

“Ew, well I regret that.”

Noah gives him a boyish grin and slurps down the last of his milkshake. “Let’s go to the trailhead again.”

Dan blinks. “Now?”

“Yeah why not. We have time.”

_Why not?_ “Okay,” Dan says.

*

Noah conveniently has a picnic blanket (different from the keep-Dan-warm blanket) in the back of his car, and he grabs that and two bottles of water in one hand and then takes Dan’s hand with the other, leading them along the dirt path to a flat-ish area near the rocky edge. It’s a nice view of the water, and there’s few tourists, which is nice. He hands Dan the water bottles while he spreads out the blanket.

Dan folds himself down, sitting cross-legged on the blanket and setting the water down next to him. Noah drops down on his other side, mirroring his position, close enough that their knees are touching and Dan is rethinking this position because that doesn’t seem like enough points of contact. 

Noah takes a deep breath and leans his elbows on his knees and rests his chin in his hands. “I don’t get out here as much as I should. It’s so beautiful.”

Dan hums in agreement, leaning back on his hands and turning his head up to the sky. He closes his eyes, lets the sun warm him even though it’s not that warm out. 

“You think you’ll ever come back? Who knows what kind of competition they’ll have next year.”

Dan laughs and sits up straight again, looking over to see Noah still staring out at the water. “I’d—I mean I’d love to, Noah.” He watches Noah smile sadly, which he hates. “Noah—” He starts, and Noah turns to meet his eyes. He doesn’t know what else to say, though. 

“Sorry, I—I didn’t mean to—I was just daydreaming, I guess.”

That makes Dan even sadder, and he frowns. 

“Ugh, no.” Noah uncrosses his legs and all but flops down on his back. “I didn’t want this to be sad. I just wanted to—have a perfect last day.”

“Well don’t say ‘perfect last day’!” Dan says with a laugh, following suit and laying down, twisting to wrap his arm around Noah’s middle. Noah brings his arm down to wrap around Dan’s shoulders. 

“It’s true though,” Noah says quietly—Dan can barely hear him over the sound of the water. “I do want it to be perfect.”

“Noah,” Dan says snuggling closer and scooting up to press his lips to the underside of Noah’s jaw. “You know it’s perfect.” He kisses Noah again. “We’re spending it together.”

Noah groans. “Don’t be charming when I’m being melancholy.”

“ _One_ of us has to be charming and we both know it’s usually you so whenever you wanna take that role back please feel free, it’s giving me hives.”

Noah snorts out a laugh. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Dan.”

Dan doesn’t answer, just presses his smile into Noah’s shoulder. 

They stay like that for a while, listening to the water, and the tourists nearby, the seagulls that make Dan jump every now and then—he just knows they’re waiting to attack him when he’s unawares. 

“I think they’re busy looking for food, which you do not have,” Noah says, all logical, when Dan flinches against him for the third time.

“Excuse you, I’m a snack.”

Noah cackles, then, holding his stomach with his free hand. Dan leans up on one arm and glares. 

“I don’t—” Noah gasps between laughs. “I don’t disagree.”

“Yeah, I can see you’re in deep agreement.”

“Aw, Dan.” Noah cups Dan’s jaw and pulls him in for a soft kiss. “Don’t be mad. Obviously I think you’re a snack.”

“Hmph.” 

Noah kisses him again, keeps kissing him until he doesn’t remember what he was frowning about, can only really remember what Noah’s lips feel like pressed against his. He sighs heavily against Noah’s mouth when they separate, and settles his head against Noah’s chest.

“Hey,” Dan says after a few minutes. 

“Hmm?”

“What’s the name of your bar, anyway?”

Noah lets out a laugh. “Honestly—we don’t have one yet. Any ideas?”

Dan nuzzles Noah’s shoulder. “Hmmm. The Open Tab.”

Noah makes an impressed sound. “Wow that’s—that’s actually really good.” 

“Yes, I’m very good. First Draft.”

“Oh my _god_ , that’s amazing.”

“Or—just name it the Pine Cone or something, I feel like all your street names and boutique stores have the word ‘pine’ in them.”

Noah snorts out a laugh. “I’ll take it under advisement.” 

Dan doesn’t know how long they’ve been there, but eventually they’ll have to head back to the house so Dan can finish packing and drive to the airport. “What time is it?” Dan asks.

Noah looks at his watch and sighs. “Almost three.”

Dan groans. “We should head back soon."

“Ten more minutes,” Noah says, pulling Dan closer.

“Ten more minutes.”

*

Dan tries to go as slow as possible while he folds his clothes. He’s not at all ready to leave but he's not in a position, mentally, to miss his flight and stay. They had a plan, and it ends with Dan leaving tonight, and Dan intends to do just that, even though it’s going to… suck. The last few days with Noah have been… a dream. But Dan’s life is in LA and it’s _real_. It’s not a dream. 

Noah pops in just as Dan is grunting unattractively as he zips up his suitcase. “Need a hand?” He asks, leaning against the doorframe. 

“No,” Dan groans out. “I got it.” He huffs out a deep breath once he gets the zipper closed the last few inches. 

Noah helps him bring his bags downstairs and they stack them neatly by the front door. There’s nothing else to do but leave, now, so naturally Dan meanders into the kitchen for no reason, grasping at something—anything—to stall with. 

“Dan,” Noah says from the doorway. Dan looks over, and some invisible string wrapped around his heart pulls him right into Noah’s space. He gets his arms around Noah at the same time as Noah pulls him into a hug. Noah’s hand is on the back of his neck and Dan presses his face hard into the curve of Noah’s shoulder, ignoring the pain of his glasses digging into his cheek. He squeezes his eyes shut against the threat of tears. He knows he can’t hold them off forever, but he wants to at least try. 

Noah clears his throat and Dan feels his breath hitch a few times. Dan squeezes him tighter and whimpers for a second before pulling back slightly. His cheeks are wet and his glasses are askew and his vision is blurry but he catches Noah’s lips in a messy, off-center kiss. Noah holds his face, hands so gentle, and gets them back on track, kissing him until they both have to pull away for a breath.

“Okay,” Dan breathes, taking a step back. “Okay. I should—get in the car.”

Noah nods. “Yeah, you’re right.”

They head back to the door, and Dan tugs his shoes on while Noah takes Dan’s suitcase out to his car. Dan’s all ready, holding his last bag, when Noah steps back into the foyer. Dan takes several deep breaths to avoid sobbing.

“Ready?” Noah says, holding out his hand. Dan shakes his head vigorously. 

“Nope,” he says, voice breaking, but he takes Noah’s hand anyway. 

They walk out to the small porch and Dan comes to a halt. “Okay,” he says, pulling Noah in for a quick, hard kiss. “You can’t walk me to the car. I won’t—I'll never leave. You have to go back inside and close the door. I can’t look at you while I back out of the driveway, I’ll crash into your mailbox.”

Noah grins. “Okay, Dan.” He kisses Dan’s lips, then his cheek, then his forehead, and Dan giggles through his tears. 

“Okay.” Dan nods. 

Neither of them move, though, and after a few moments, Dan shoves at Noah’s shoulder and they both laugh as he turns Noah around and pushes him back inside. Dan turns on his heel and walks purposely down the walkway, stopping before he hits the pavement of the driveway to look back over his shoulder. 

Noah is still standing in the doorway, and Dan turns fully and throws his hand up. “Close the door!” Noah laughs and closes the door most of the way, leaving a sliver open for his face. He peeks through the opening. “Noah!” Dan says, but he’s laughing, too, and it’s so perfect. 

He stares for another beat, then turns to the car, throws his bag on the passenger seat, and gets inside. He starts the car, focuses on his seatbelt, and the GPS, the heater, the seat warmers—and when he glances up at Noah’s front door, it’s closed. 

Dan smiles down at his lap as his eyes well up with tears, and he blinks to let them fall before shifting into reverse and backing out of Noah’s driveway. 

He doesn’t hit the mailbox. 

*

Dan manages to keep it together, for the most part, until he’s home—save for a minor sobbing episode fifteen minutes out of Mendocino where he had to pull over and feel sorry for himself for three minutes. 

When he shuts the door of his apartment, after assuring Stacey that he’s fine and he’ll text her tomorrow, he leans back with a sigh and slides down the wall. Redmond scuttles over, tail wagging uncontrollably, and Dan finds the energy to greet him back just as enthusiastically. 

He pulls Red into his lap and thunks his head back against the door. “Oh, buddy,” he says, scratching his ears. “This is gonna hurt for a while.”

Red needs a walk, so Dan heaves himself off the floor and fastens Red’s harness before clipping on his leash. “C’mon, real quick, Reddy,” he murmurs, double-checking his pockets for his keys and phone. 

Fifteen minutes later, he’s back at his front door. He gets Red out of his walk-wear, leaving it strewn close enough to the bin where he keeps it. Red heads to the kitchen to get water, and Dan follows, leaving his bags by the front door. He’ll deal with them tomorrow. Or the next day. He’s not ready to see sweaters he wore while Noah kissed him casually interspersed in his regular wardrobe. 

He gets himself water, downs the whole glass, then ushers Red into the bedroom. He’s tired from the day of travel, body achy from car rides and airplane seats, head throbbing from past and future crying. He grabs ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet before he starts his skincare.  
  
Snuggled in bed alone, Red tucked in his own bed already snoring, Dan unlocks his phone, ignoring all his other notifications and pulling up his messages. He taps on his text thread with Noah. _Home safe_ , he types, because he’d promised. He doesn’t add a heart, even though he stupidly wants to. He hits send and sets his phone on his charger, turning over. He doesn’t fall asleep for a while.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, it's here. I can't believe it! This is my longest fic and now it's over 😭.
> 
> Anyways thanks for reading! Enjoy Dan and Noah's Hallmark ending.

Dan wakes up the next morning and bursts into tears, startling Red from where he’s sleeping in the corner. He tries to stop, for a few minutes, but then gives up, and just cries. And cries. Until he manages to take a deep breath without it ending in a dry sob, and then he goes back to sleep for a while. 

Red wakes him up some time later, whining with his front paws up on the side of the bed, and Dan immediately feels guilty. “Sorry, Reddy,” he says, voice scratchy from sleep and crying. His head is pounding, but he manages to stumble out of bed, grab his glasses, drink some water and get dressed to take Red out.

Once he’s back, though, he changes right back into his pajamas, gets more ibuprofen, and orders pancakes from Little Dom’s. When he finds his way back to his phone, he has a bunch of texts from Stacey, some from a few friends asking if he’s back in town yet (some asking if he stayed in Mendocino with ‘Forearms’ with suggestive emojis), and a single text from Noah. His heart skips a beat, before he remembers that he’d been the one to text Noah last night. 

Noah’s text is a simple ❤, and it makes Dan smile even though it’s nothing special. His fingers hover over the keyboard on his screen, but… he doesn’t have anything specific to say, and starting up a conversation will probably just hurt them both. 

He responds to Stacey’s dissertation of supportive messages with a request to stand down and a promise that he’ll reach out soon when he’s ready for a meal in public. He answers his sister’s question about his general wellbeing, and thinks about how he’s going to explain this whole thing to her. 

Dan eats his pancakes, and they’re exactly like they always are, but they’re _nothing_ like Hattie’s.

By 2pm he thinks he’s done crying for the day, so he drags himself into the shower, takes extra care with his hair routine after several days of rushing through it, and uses a luxurious body scrub, too. Once he’s out of the shower, he finds he has no energy for any post-shower routine, so he pulls on his clothes, slaps moisturizer on his face, and pulls his laptop out of his bag that’s still by the front door.

Dan settles on the couch with Redmond and a cup of tea and opens his laptop. His notes from the trip are still open and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. He can do this. It’s not even that big of a deal. He had a great time in Mendocino—it was a great trip and he should be able to sift through the memories without having some kind of emotional breakdown. 

He reads one sentence of his town hall movie night recap and changes his mind, closing his laptop roughly. Redmond gives a startled growl and Dan soothes him with ear scratches. “This was a mistake,” Dan tells him, and Red gives a short whine. “I know I need to start eventually,” Dan responds as if Red is protesting. 

Dan opens his laptop back up and closes all his notes and everything novel-related and Noah adjacent and orders groceries instead. Marshmallows somehow make it onto his list. 

*

By the next weekend, Dan is feeling—okay. 

Okay, he’s _not_ okay, but it’s been a week and maybe if he tries to pretend… he really will be. He texts Stacey and asks if she’s available for a non-editor/writer brunch on Saturday. 

He’s finally unpacked, but he’s still not ready to wear anything from his trip. He feels sort of confident in the brunch outfit he picked out, though, so he’ll call it a win. It’s the first day he feels like he might be able to get back to his regular life. One day. He’s even got half his morning routine back on track. 

There’s a nagging thought, though, in the back of his head, that begs the question—is this what Dan _wants_?

He shakes the thought and grabs his wallet, phone and keys, taking a deep breath before heading out the door. 

Stacey is already at a table, ten minutes early like she always is, and she has a drink ready for him again. The scene is so much like their fateful ‘have you ever been to a small town?’ brunch that Dan has a few flashbacks to that moment. 

“Relax, Levy,” Stacey says as she pulls him into a tight hug—much tighter than someone her size should be able to. “Welcome back.”

“Yeah,” Dan sighs as he sits. “Thanks.”

“How unenthused you seem about being back,” Stacey comments, raising an eyebrow. 

Dan takes a gulp of his drink. “It’s nice.”

“Wow, okay. Dan,” she leans forward, “I didn’t realize—you didn’t tell me you liked him _that_ much.”

Dan smiles ruefully. “No, I didn’t.”

“Dan,” she repeats, sounding scolding and disappointed with just one word. “What happened?”

They order food and another round of drinks and Dan launches into the events that happened after their phone call the morning of the bonfire. 

They’re done eating, and finishing their third drinks, when Dan wraps up. Stacey blows out a breath, puffing out her cheeks. “Well.”

Dan nods. 

“So, what exactly are you doing _here_ , then?”

Dan blinks. “At brunch?”

“In LA.”

“I… live here?”

“Mmhmm.” 

“Though I’m still waiting for my lease renewal to see how much rent’s gonna go up.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Mmhmm _what_?” Dan demands. 

“It’s just—what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Happen when?"

“If you… went out there?” Stacey gestures to some nebulous location outside. 

“Out _where_? What is _happening_?”

“Back to Mendocino. What if you went back there?”

“I mean—that would be terrible. Then I’d just remember all the amazing things that happened and be a wreck once I left again.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Dan downs the last of his drink. “What do you _mean_ then—?” Dan clicks his mouth shut. “Stacey you can’t possibly be suggesting I move to Mendocino to be with some guy I barely know.”

Stacey shakes her glass, the ice clinking against the sides. “He’s not just some guy, though, is he?” She asks gently. 

Dan folds his arms and looks away. “I—I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

“Dan,” Stacey says sadly. 

“No, it’s—it’s fine. He and I both agreed. I’ll get over it eventually, right?” 

“Yeah, you will.” Stacey nods and gives him a pitying smile. 

“I should go. I have rewrites to do, right?”

“I’ll get this. You can buy next time,” Stacey replies. 

Dan smiles and stands. “Thanks, Stace.”

“Call me,” she says.

*

It’s been over a month since he left, and Dan’s just submitted a new manuscript to Stacey. He still thinks about Noah almost every day, but it’s less agonizing pain and more fond memories, which is a relief. 

He cried a lot, writing the book. He knew it could be a longshot, changing his book into a romance inspired by his days with Noah. He almost didn’t do it, but he… he _wanted_ to. And he didn’t have anything to lose, besides tears. 

But he got it done and now he can stop reliving every moment he had with Noah. 

He buys himself a bottle of champagne to celebrate, and orders a tiny cake from a local bakery. He does spend five minutes deep breathing before he goes inside to pick it up first, though, because he can’t stomach the thought of a bakery without Terry’s doughnuts. It’s not as bad as he thinks—he smiles through the whole transaction, thinking how weird it is to be paying for his own baked goods. He tucks the box under his arm as he walks back to his car. 

He’s half a bottle down and two slices in when he gets an Instagram message from Stacey. Ten bucks says it’s a cat video, but Dan opens it anyway, taking another sip of champagne. 

It’s not a cat video. 

It’s a post from an account he doesn’t recognize, but the photo is like a punch to the gut. It’s the interior of the bar, fully furnished, with Noah behind the bar holding a cocktail shaker. His head is thrown back in a laugh, and Annie is sitting at the bar covering her mouth, eyes crinkled with laughter. 

He taps the photo, realizes it’s Annie’s account. The caption is a countdown, _7 days til this guy lets the real bartender takeover. grand opening november 21. come say hi!!_

Dan stares at the photo for—who knows how long. He touches his fingertip to Noah’s face on the screen and when he lifts it, the tag for his account pops up. Dan had tried _so_ hard to not look him up—didn’t want to see him having a great time. He’s had too much champagne to resist now, and Dan is only slightly relieved to see that Noah’s not very active. In the last month there’s been one post and it’s a blurry video of the booths being reinstalled.

The one right before it is—Dan knows what that is. The screencap is Noah on stage, and Dan can see from the date that it’s his performance at the final night of Harvest Fest. Dan clicks play and takes a deep breath—he already knows this is a huge mistake. 

He watches it through once, and then hits play again, because the song Noah chose pierces Dan’s heart and he wants to feel it again. Noah’s plaintive voice makes Dan tip over on the couch so he’s laying down, and he rests his phone on his chest and closes his eyes to let Noah’s voice wash over him. 

He listens two more times, listens to Noah tell Dan he’s gonna dive headfirst into heartbreak, if that's what it means to be with Dan—to wait for Dan. 

Dan sits up abruptly and his phone thuds onto the thick rug in his living room. “Oh my god,” he says to Redmond, who ignores him. “Oh my god,” he says again, whispering to himself. He presses his fingers over his mouth, tapping them as he thinks. 

He looks around his apartment, at the papers on his coffee table, one of which is the letter detailing his _exorbitant_ rent increase for next year. “Okay,” he says, and takes a swig of champagne from the bottle.

Dan thinks about it. He could… pack. He could just. Go. He could go to the opening. It was on Instagram after all. _Come say hi_ , Annie said.

He could just. Pack. Book a flight. Rent a car. Drive to the bar. And see Noah. 

Dan grabs his phone and replies to Stacey. 

_I’m thinking about booking a flight._

_Thank god._

_Is this a terrible idea?_

_You wrote a book about it._

_So you read the new draft._

_Just book the flight, Danny Jo._

Dan sends back a middle finger emoji and opens his travel app. 

*

Dan’s fine the entire flight from LAX to SFO. As fine as he ever is on planes, that is. He doesn’t start freaking out until he gets into his rental car and enters Noah’s address into the GPS. He panic dials Stacey in the parking garage at the airport. 

“You’re fine, Dan.”

“Okay, but what if—”

“What if you stumble into the bar and Noah drops the glass he’s holding and runs into your arms, you mean?”

“ _No_ , I mean what if Noah was _fine_ and I’m about to walk back into his life and _get my heart broken_?”

“Well, I guess you’ll never know unless you drive there, huh?”

“Stace.” 

“Dan.”

“I just—”

“You’ve already lived through the heartbreak once, Dan,” Stacey says gently. “You can probably do it again if you have to. Though I don’t think you’ll have to.”

Dan just breathes for a few moments. “Has he… said anything to you about me?”

“You told me not to talk to him about you.”

“Yeah.” Dan sighs. “Okay, I’m going to go.”

“To Noah’s. Not back into the airport.”

Dan huffs a laugh. “Yes, to Noah’s.” Saying it out loud makes his breath catch in his throat. 

“Bye, Dan,” Stacey sing-songs and Dan hears the click of her hanging up. 

Dan only freaks out once more on the two-hour drive from San Francisco to Mendocino, and he successfully talks himself out of hyperventilating. But once he hits the town limits and starts to recognize landmarks, his breath comes easier. He drives past the street he knows would take him to Noah’s cabin and turns onto Main Street. 

His heart starts hammering when he sees Hattie’s, her cliche OPEN sign blinking in the window. He smiles at the sign for Terry’s bakery, lets himself think about doughnuts for tomorrow morning as long as his life doesn’t implode once he gets to Noah’s bar. 

There’s a ton of cars on the street, so Dan drives ahead to the public lot a few buildings down. His palms start to sweat as soon as he shifts into park and he feels like driving away. But then he thinks about the photo that Annie posted, the one of Noah laughing, and he decides at the very least, he might see that tonight. 

He turns off the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt and before he can change his mind he climbs out of the car. He takes a deep breath—the smell is so _familiar_ and comforting that Dan almost cries. 

Dan focuses so hard on putting one foot in front of the other as he walks toward the bar, that he almost walks past it. He backs up a few steps and looks up at the sign, spotlights illuminating it in the dark. 

_The Pine Cone._

Dan lets out a delighted laugh, pressing his hand to his cheek to marvel at the name Noah picked because—Noah _would_. A moment later someone swings the door open and the noise from inside spills out for a second, spurring Dan into action. 

He takes another deep breath and pulls open the door.

As soon as he’s inside he immediately regrets not calling or something ahead of time. The place is packed, understandably so, and it’s pretty dim inside. Dan’s eyes skip around from group to group, scanning for Noah’s curly hair or earnest eyes. 

He sees Annie behind the bar, and another guy he doesn’t recognize. They’re busy making drinks, and Dan assumes Noah is milling around, thanking people for coming. So many people showed up for Noah, and Noah is definitely going to make sure everyone feels appreciated. 

All the corners are taken, too, and Dan thinks he might just leave, maybe park creepily outside of Noah’s house and wait for him to get back, but then someone grabs his arm.

“Dan Levy!” It’s Rizwan, and he’s clearly quite a few drinks into the evening. He pulls Dan into a one-armed hug, holding his drink away from them, which Dan appreciates. “Noah didn’t tell us you were coming!” He’s yelling a little too loud, even for the noise in the bar. 

“I didn’t actually… tell him,” Dan says, laughing at Rizwan’s drunken excitement.

“A surprise visit! Oh, he’s going to be so happy!” He pats Dan’s chest excitedly. “Between you and me, he was quite distraught when you left!” Even that bit of sad news comes out of his mouth with a hint of delight. Dan flushes.

“Mm, okay, well do you know where I can find him?”

“Oh, he’s around here somewhere!”

Before Dan can ask for clarification, Rizwan is waving enthusiastically at someone across the room, and then he’s gone. 

The interaction bolsters Dan’s confidence a little, and he moves further into the space, intending to at least go to the bar to see Annie and get one or five drinks, and that’s when he spots Noah, not too far away. He’s laughing—eyes squinched and mouth open, nearly folded at the waist as he squeezes at someone’s shoulder. It turns out to be Matt, from the band, and he’s laughing, too, and Dan’s about to interrupt the most important night of Noah’s life, all because he couldn’t—

“Dan?” Noah’s looking straight at him, now, shoving his drink into Matt’s hand as he takes a step forward. “Oh my god, Dan?”

“Hi,” Dan finds the brainpower to call out, doesn’t know if Noah heard him, because once he’s close enough to touch, Noah pulls him into a tight hug, wrapping one arm around Dan’s waist and using the other to cradle the back of Dan’s head. 

“Dan,” he breathes, lips brushing Dan’s neck. “You’re here.” 

Dan squeezes back, and tears spill over his cheeks, and _god_ it’s really nice to be back in Noah’s arms. He feels like an idiot for leaving in the first place. “I’m here,” he says because he can’t think of anything else. 

Noah pulls away, only slightly. “What are you doing here?” His wide eyes search Dan’s face for the answer. 

Dan had several drafts of a speech, he’d practiced most of the drive, but all he can say is, “I, um… I’m in love with you.”

Noah laughs, loud and bright. “I know that.”

Dan is offended but can’t stop smiling. “This is where you say ‘I love you too, Dan,’” he points out, brushing his knuckles over Noah’s stubble. Noah strokes his thumb over Dan’s cheekbone. 

“You know I do,” he murmurs, closing the space between them. 

Dan sighs into the kiss, feels… whole again. 

Noah’s hand is warm on his cheek and Dan’s skin tingles where they’re touching. He leans closer, opens for Noah, moans softly against Noah’s mouth. “Noah,” he breathes, pulling back briefly. Noah just nods and leans back in, tilting Dan’s head down a little.

Dan follows Noah’s lead, and it’s so _good_ , and so _perfect_ until—

“Dan!” Annie screams from behind the bar. 

They separate and look over, and Annie’s already running at him at full speed—as full speed as she can get in a crowded bar, and Dan has to let go of Noah or she’ll knock them both to the ground. 

After that, a lot of townspeople come over to greet him, and when he feels like they’re about to squeeze Noah out, Dan grabs his hand and pulls him closer. He catches Noah’s eyes, and the heat in Noah’s gaze tells Dan they should get away from the crowd. 

“We’re gonna get some air,” Dan says abruptly, pulling Noah towards the door. 

“Wait, my coat,” Noah says, tugging Dan towards the bar. They duck through an Employees Only door and head down a short hallway to a small office. “Wait here,” Noah says, kissing his cheek and darting inside. He comes back with a coat on and then leads Dan out a back door. 

The cool air feels refreshing on Dan’s hot cheeks, and he breathes in the night air. The quiet of the alley makes Dan start second-guessing. “You’re missing your party, Noah, I’m sorry—”

Noah lays a fingertip over Dan’s mouth. “Dan,” he says seriously. “You are by far the best part of this night.”

Dan nods. “Okay,” he says, muffled by Noah’s hand. 

“Are you—how long?” Noah moves his hand away, and he looks _so_ nervous and _so_ hopeful at the same time. Dan just wants to give him everything. 

“I’m not renewing my apartment lease in January. Do you—do you allow dogs?” 

Noah’s all smiles. “I’d love to have Redmond come live with me. But where will you stay?” He replies, and Dan shoves him hard.

Noah just crowds back into Dan’s space, settling his hands on Dan’s hips. “You sure?” He whispers, nuzzling against Dan’s cheek. 

“So sure,” Dan says, catching Noah’s lips in a brief kiss. “Wait.” He pulls back. “If I move here forever, does that mean I have to start paying for my own doughnuts? Because that changes everything.”

Grinning against Dan’s mouth, Noah says, “We can negotiate the terms later. Say forever again.” He doesn’t let Dan say it, though, just cuts him off with a sweet kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the following movies and then autumnized  
> Super small town, MC actually get together during the movie not just at the end: [Christmas Under Wraps](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt4180032/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_2)  
> Two people unexpectedly stay in the same cabin: [Christmas Getaway](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt7688990/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_0)  
> Unique bookstore cataloging system: [Small Town Christmas](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt9168416/)  
> I also have this on my list but I don’t actually know why, it could have been something I cut out: [Christmas Joy](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt8587650/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_0)
> 
> The bar names from chapter six (First Draft and Open Tab) by Liz and TINN respectively.


End file.
